Tags: humor, P.E., square dancing, teenager
“Mom, are these your square dancing shoes?” my nine-year-old asked when I was wearing my black, comfortable shoes.
Why yes. Yes they are.
And I proceeded to link my arm in his and we twirled across the kitchen floor.
I did not grow up churning butter. I did not make my dresses out of sacks of flour. I did not listen to square dancing music.
Wait. Yes I did.
And I learned some basic square dance steps. In high school.
In P.E., we were taught how to Do-Si-Do, how to swing your partner to and fro, and how to do some good, old fashioned cardio. Some may have eye rolled and sighed.
Some I enjoyed it. Maybe my partner was a super cute boy. Maybe.
I asked my teenaged son if he ever did square dancing in P.E.
He looked at me as if I were wearing a sack of flour.