We’re getting ready for recess one day last week and the kids are standing behind their pushed-in chairs like little angels waiting for me to dismiss them. Funny how the closer it gets to recess, the more perfect they all become. Well, most of them anyway…
A kid in the front row (the closest kid to me as a matter of fact) is gyrating away like I’ve never seen a kid (or anyone for that matter) gyrate before. I mean, I’ve seen my share of first-grade moves, but this kid’s seriously going to hurt himself if he keeps it up. Elvis would be so proud!
He’s gyrating away, and he’s cracking himself up. Gyrate, gyrate, gyrate, laugh, laugh, laugh. Noticing that no one is watching him and appreciating his moves, he turns to his seat partner and throws some gyration her way. More gyrate, gyrate, gyrate, laugh, laugh, laugh. Only, guess what? She’s not having it. She looks at him and says,
“You know…that’s not funny. Did you hear me? That’s not funny. It’s creepy.”
She’s right, of course, and I wish I could say so, but I have to play it cool.
I quickly dismiss them, mostly to put her out of her misery, and as they walk out the door I start to wonder if he’ll be sore tomorrow. Nah, he has youth on his side. Now if it had been me showing off moves like that, I’d be sore for at least a week! Of course, that would be impossible because I no longer have moves like that!