A Boy and his Cat

Mom said I made a mess in the kitchen.  That I tracked in grass and mud. 

            Well, boy, you did actually make a mess.  You always make a mess when you wear your wellies.

But, Midnight, we had to walk through the tall grass to get to the tall tree.  And there was mud, so we had to walk in it.

        But, boy.  You did not just walk in the mud.  You stomped in the mud.  See, I have to clean my fur!

She yelled at me.  She said, “You are seven years old, and should know better than to….”  But, I stopped listening, so I don’t know what she said next.

        Yes, boy.  You should know better.  I am only three, and I know not to make a mess!

Midnight, you’re a cat.  Cats are different.  They don’t wear wellies.

        Yes, boy, we are different.  WE don’t splash in mud.  Oh, look!  The woman is opening the door!  She has…

Mum! Biscuits! I promise, I will be careful next time.

        No, boy.  You will not be more careful, but  the mother knows that.

 

 

Dance, I say!

Source  We did not attend this event.

Being able to dance is a wonderful.  Being able to dance skillfully and gracefully is truly a gift.  

Manzanita used her skill and love of dancing for the 2013 A-to-Z Blogfest.  Every day she shared a new dance and her experiences.  They were marvelous.

For one whose dreams alone allow me to dance, I confess that I am rhythmically impaired.  Two steps and I am lost.

But that does not take away the joy of dancing, of watching dancing.  The best dance ever done took place on New Year’s Eve, 1979. 

Our daughter was about 4 ½ and our son “Johnny” had just turned one.  We always threw a ‘big’ party with our small children on that day.  We let them stay up until almost 10 PM and eat all manner of party foods.  We put on our favorite music albums and artists, cranked the music up loud, and we danced.  We danced all over the house.

It was the Fleetwood Mac album when the real dance began. 

While still not too steady on his feet and clothed in a simple diaper, Johnny was stunned by “Tusk”.  He held onto the coffee table, and he danced.  And boy, did he dance!  Perfect rhythm, into the music, shaking his head, singing as only a toddler can!

When the  sorta-free form drum solo kicked in, he stopped and waited for it to be over.  Then the music started again.  And Johnny broke into dance.

I have never looked at dancing the same.  And I still like the Tusk album.

p.s.  Johnny is now a man, a talented pianist, with perfect pitch and rhythm.