the butt dance

we should talk about the butt dance.

i think it really started percolating in j's mind as a potential change-up from the volleys of kicks and punches delivered to my now pretty sore right side when i gave up on my own clothes and started wearing ted's t-shirts around the house. on the day that i announced my sartorial defeat (silently, to myself and jordan), i chose ted's classy shirt that features a 'donkey,' with the words, 'don't be an' above it. i'll let you figure out how the picture finishes the sentence.

those of you who know ted know that this is a t-shirt worn with nearly as much frequency as the beloved pandas-in-glitter, but perhaps it's not as memorable, given the lack of glitter, chinese ideograms, and pandas.

so around the time i started wearing this shirt (ted's response: can't you pick one of the shirts that i don't wear all the time?), i was also getting ready to teach _jurassic park_. to prepare, ted, j, and i watched that fine film together, and that night, amidst the animal t-shirts and the roaring dinos, the butt dance was born.

it's initial version consisted of butt waggling from my left side to the exact middle of jordan's house, combined with some horrible drilling action performed by j's little fists into my pelvis. it was visually pretty cool and physically pretty uncomfortable.

now that jordan's space is even more limited, the butt dance mostly consists of butt sliding with the occasional bit leg stretch so that my stomach visibly gets much, much wider. this remains physically uncomfortable.

in spite of all this discomfort and my whining about it, i love the butt dance. this kid has a really hard butt. and s/he's a really dedicated dancer, always practicing.