(aka “Being bossed around by my 8 year old cousin”)
So, I’m getting ready to wash the lunch dishes, when she asks me what I had. I try to explain the concoction I made, without really listening she says, “Yes, very clever. So, would you like to come outside and see my hip hop routine from my class?”
She seems excited about showing me, so I agree.
We go outside to the side lawn. She kicks off her shoes and begins to warm up. I take a seat.
When she is ready, she says, “You introduce me.”
So, I introduce her.
During my introduction, she decides that her actual name displeases her in some way. I sit for 2 minutes or so until she decides on her new name. (“Katie Martell” for some reason.)
We try again a few times, while I mess up the name on purpose. (I’m like that.)
Then she decides that she wants to run in from the side “like a star.”
(I couldn’t make this up if I tried.)
So, finally I get the name right and she saunters out to the middle of the lawn — mouthing “Clap!” to me as she goes.
The routine begins. And it is kind of cute. She dances around for probably 4 minutes and then does a jumpy thing. So, I assume this is the end and begin applauding.
“I’m not done!”
I sit on my hands and the dance continues.
I nearly plotzed at the first of four appearances of jazz hands!
At around the seven minute mark she pauses. I ask, “Are you done?”
A terse “No” leads into more dancing.
At about the ten minute mark, I am smelling a rat.
“You are making this up!”
“This is from your class?”
“It’s too long! You’d never remember all this.”
She does two quick moves and then another jumpy thing.
“There, that’s the end!” she says defiantly.
I clap and tell her it was lovely. I try to return to my dishes, but she isn’t having any of it.
“Can I show you something?”
“No,” I reply.
“I’m going to show you anyway.”
So, she runs up to the other end of the lawn. Then she starts running and doing somersaults all over the place. However, she decides to turn it up a notch.
“Peter, you are going to be the judge.”
“AND you are going to have invisible judges on either side of you. You’ll whisper with them when I am done.”
I roll my eyes.
She returns to the far end of the lawn. Then she begins running and does another somersault.
When she gets up, she looks at me for the score. I start to speak, but she cuts me off.
So, I actually mime talking to the other judges.
She says, “Well?”
I point to my left and say, “Well, this guy thinks you suck.”
She nodded seriously. Absorbing the feedback. Then she says, “And what about the other guy?”
We three judges have to score a number of different moves.
She and I even argue about what you get when you add 9.2 and 8.3 together.
And I quote, “No… No… NO… NO!!!! Oh wait, yes you are right.”
Apparently tired of the competing, she walks up to me and says, “I need a beauty break. Super stars need beauty breaks, Peter.” And she starts towards the back door. She stops when she gets there and turns back, “And I’m going to use the bathroom too.”