We were in the car on the way to school, listening to Mute Math's latest (Armistice. Have you heard it? If you haven't, you should get it. It kicks our corporate boutakis over here at the Stevenson house), and I was dancing, as any normal commuting mother should when listening to Mute Math's latest offering on her way to work.
It's tricky to dance in the car, but it can be done. It is trickier still to dance while driving but, yes, I can do it. Mostly with my head.
Which is why Emma Grace pipes up and says, "Mom, how can you do that thing with your head?"
And I'm thinking-- as anyone does who is dancing in the moment and so therefore is not really aware of How or even What one is doing but is just aware that one Must Do-- I'm thinking, "I don't know," and suddenly I'm wondering what I was doing with my head and maybe beginning to come up with an answer when Everett makes answer for me, his voice sounding above the volume of the song,
"Emma, Mom was around in the eighties. She knows how to do things like that."
And I really don't know what that means. No Idea.
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2 comments:
Wait, wait: I know this head thing. Right, side, up...wait. What the heck was it? I forgot already, so close on the heels of the Eno and all. Damn. (Perhaps I'll blame it on having been just a wee babe in the eighties. Which is to say nothing about our relative ages, of course, but is only to say that I should be young enough to remember things from only a few weeks ago. Or was it months? Double damn.)
Ah, no. Alas, that dance that you tried (did you?), er, that your husband tried was not the dance in question, else it would have been Completely Understandable by all Stevenson children.
And that dance-- the one you witnessed-- was a dance to a song by Muse, and not Mute Math. Close, though. :)
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