Picking Up An Old Project

So a couple of years ago I started a little creative writing project at WEbook. Well, I got busy and never wrapped it up but I also never forgot about it. Today I was killing some time between things I had to be at and picked it back up. The basic premise is that of an alternative reality set in the near future in which I do the 'Dad blog' thing like one of my favorite bloggers, Poop and Boogies. I based it on a few general characteristics from my life and used it as a way to process some information from a class I was taking. In it, I have a five-year-old son named Andrew. This is odd because a) I have never had any intention of naming my son Andrew and b) shortly after writing the original piece I met some people who had a five-year-old named Andrew who looked exactly like what I was imagining.

I've got two other posts I'm working on now. One is reflecting on a book I'm reading and a video game series I enjoy. The other is a commentary on the three levels of worship that I formulated today while at a worship/media team meeting.

These will probably both be posted within the next week, but I wanted to go ahead and share this now. Fourth post in a month, new record! Again, click the first link in this post to view the original project and meet Andrew.

"Dance! Dance! Dancing!"

My son, Andrew, has taken to convulsing in public and calling it 'dancing.' The wife claims he gets this from me, which may be true. She strictly choreographed our first (and only public) dance at our wedding reception beforehand. I was to lead in a left-right sway while slowly spinning – clockwise, it must be clockwise – as my hands rested on her hips and hers on my shoulders. After this traditionally mandated exercise, she retired to the table to gawk at those who would dare to make such fools of themselves in public – of which I was a subset.

To be fair to her, the shoes she had been talked into wearing for the ceremony were a fearsome pair of blister-inducing, shin-splinters. In addition, she did join us for group dances to the "Electric Slide" and "YMCA" – dances which are also traditionally mandated.

To be fair to me, I can at least produce the appearance of knowing what I'm doing. The secret is to force your face into its most serious expression so that everyone thinks you are concentrating on getting the moves just right, thus giving you the look of a true artist. Sadly, most of my attempts at fancy footwork quickly devolve into the 'skank' – a classic dance for ska music that involves swinging your elbows around and kicking your legs out while hopping to the beat.

Sadder still, Andrew appears to have not even progressed to the skank. He merely writhes and throws various sections of his body outward with no regard for the music. This gives the impression of either a nod to Dadaism or demonic possession. He does this while shouting various forms of the word 'dance', thus adding to his overall image of mental instability. He may be on to something, however, as he seems to have attracted more attention from his beloved teacher who exclaims, "Beautiful, Andrew! You are such an excellent dancer!" thus adding to her overall image of mental instability.

I'm trying to educate him on proper form – something The Wiggles have apparently failed to do. We've watched Breakin' (I and II), Footloose, and that one scene from Beauty and the Beast (we can't watch the entire movie as the clock man frightens him). Unfortunately, all this has served to do is inspire him to throw himself on the floor for his convulsions and call it 'break dancing.' At the store the other night a lady called for an ambulance thinking he was having a seizure.

My wife claims that it's just a phase and he will grow out of it soon, much like his crotch-punching phase. Still, I'm considering calling a special prayer session at church next Wednesday to lay hands on him. I'll wear my pea soup colored shirt just in case.