My dad, the dancer.
I miss my big sister RyRy. No one wrestles me and throws toys around me, waiting for me to go “fetch,” when my parents aren’t looking. No one gets a little jealous whenever dad or mom cuddles with me.
But most importantly, no one watches me when both mom and dad are busy. I remember one of the (many) times I fell out of the bed which wouldn’t have happened if Ate RyRy was right there beside me. She may not be able to carry me just yet but I love her just as much.
Anyway, this post is about our dad, the dancer. Mom had the whole afternoon planned out as she is baking some goodies for some party (I’m not sure) where I assume I’ll be carried and passed around too much than I would’ve preferred.
Ate RyRy is currently staying at Papa Reggie’s, which is a good 30 kilometers away from here. This only means one thing, dad will be looking out for me. Que horror.
My dad, if we haven’t made it clear yet, is so obnoxious. He’s always busy with either his phone or the computer and he gets mad whenever either of us distracts him from his oh-so-important thing (see: Monument Valley game).
But I have to admit, the guy is talented. He always manages to trick me into falling asleep. By tricking me, I meant letting me cry my eyes out for 30 minutes until I fall asleep.
This time though, mom was watching. So he had to be in his very best behavior. I noticed they’ve left me in my high chair for an unjustifiable amount of time already and so I started to complain. I’ve had words in my head but all that came out were “ba-ba-ba” and cries.
Anyway, mom was busy and so it was dad’s turn to pick me up. I think they use telepathy to communicate this. Dad picks me up and brings me outside. I love going outside. I love watching the poor Shih Tzu’s try their best to catch their tails.
And there’s the (literally) junkyard dog, Eminem. My dad says he’s his dog for 13 years but I never see him take care of Eminem. Or maybe he does, telepathically.
My dad is no athlete (although most of the time, he claims he is — don’t believe him). After a couple of minutes, we went back. I swear I felt his arms shaking.
No, I am not heavy. He just hasn’t been working out for the longest time; choosing to lounge in front of the TV most of his idle time. I see him look at mom but mom’s still busy baking. He has no choice but soldier on for the rest of the batch (to be baked in the oven).
I feel him slowly sliding me into his left arm. I know this feeling. He’s going to attempt to sway me in his arms to make me fall asleep. And so he did. I feel myself swaying but it feels half-assed. Aha! I took a peek and saw that he’s just turning his upper body left to right. I’m not falling for this. This won’t get him anywhere.
Please don’t tell him because I really don’t want to take a nap right now. Five, ten, twenty minutes have passed and he’s sticking with his routine. There’s something about this upper body swaying that feels inadequate. I’m still as awake as I was when this started.
Wait, what’s that I’m hearing? I can hear footsteps. He’s adjusting his posture. He’s now raising his left foot, stepping in when he sways me to the right; raising his right foot, stepping it inwards when swaying me to the left. I can feel some force in the back and forth. This is not good.
Also, for some weird reason, there seems to be a change in the swaying. I’m not going left to right but in some sort of a half curve now; like a wide letter “U.” Uh oh.
And then it happened.
The damn guy started swaying his hips! He is now swaying to the beat of Arrows by Fences and Macklemore. He is… dancing.. and magically! I’m starting to feel dizzy and powerless. My thumb goes into my mouth as it was destined to do so.. sucking.. well-played old man..
Originally published at ryanneandmiguel.wordpress.com on December 27, 2014.