Dance Lessons

So remember those dance classes?

Most who know Senor Smarty Pants wouldn't think he'd be one to push me outside my box-he much prefers boxes.

They have 4 even sides.

They have 4 corners. Are you seeing a trend?

They are easy to organize.


It's just that our boxes are very different. Sometimes, very, very, very different. So while he is new to this whole dancing thing-totally new, he's cool as a cucumber. Doesn't worry if he makes mistakes-brushes them right off. Me? ha. I've danced some, and I get frustrated. Especially when I get off beat-because I can feel it...unlike someone else I know. Then I miss a step or something and get more frustrated with myself, with him and that's not fair.

Some nights we actually leave dance in a huff, being just polite enough so outsiders don't know we are really not digging each other at the moment. Because Senor Smarty Pants and I are...bickerers, like a pair of 80 year olds add to that the fact that we have never learned something like this together. We study together often, we research the same things and teach one another things we've discovered all the time. But this, this is different. We are having to remind ourselves that while at that moment we may be wondering why we both said yes to this class, it's for the big picture. So we can actually dance together. So he doesn't get folding chair butt at the next dance we go to. It's the birthday gift that will keep on giving, and I love that idea-so much.

How naive of us, to think we'd just be learning dance, laughing and smiling at each other the whole time. Easy peasy lemon squeesy. Silly, silly kids.

I'm thinking Senor Smarty Pants got more than he bargained for.


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