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Dancing in the Kitchen



I love dancing. Anywhere, with anyone (well… within reason - let’s not get too carried away with the possibilities).


In college, I went to the bar and barely drank – I was too busy on the dance floor.

Now that I'm older, I still join my girlfriends on occasion for a good soiree.


But more and more each day, I’ve come to love dancing in the kitchen with my husband, and subsequently my two boys.


My little man is 9. He holds my hand and wraps his arm around my waist and sways with me. He’s too short to spin me. I still take the liberty on occasion, which typically ends the dance in giggles. He looks up at me with a half-having-fun-and-half-totally-embarrassed expression on his face. I love to gently torture my kids into loving on their momma. At the end of the song, he drops his hands as if the moment hadn’t happened. But as he walks away, a grin crawls across his face.




My big boy is 14 and now a few inches taller than me. To be fair, I don’t set a high bar. Even though he's now a man-child, I still wrangle him into dancing when he just happens past me in the kitchen, aiming for the fridge. He rolls his eyes but doesn’t pull away. He can now carry a rhythm. I can feel his potential.


I’ve told him girls love a boy that can dance. He’ll be better off if he learns. And I'm more than happy to teach him... He replies that he’s more worried about working out, football, and food right now. There will come a day, son…



And then there’s dancing with my lanky hubby. The fact that he’s 13 inches taller than me allows for my head to rest directly on his chest while we two-step to slow George Straight. One expansive hand envelopes mine, the other makes me feel dainty as it spreads across the whole of my lower back. He knows one step fluently and keeps time no matter the song.


I’m either left swooning or laughing each time my family comes together in this way, in the kitchen of our humble home.


During these moments I feel overwhelmed with gratitude. I must take advantage of the open floor as often as I can. Life’s too short not to dance in the kitchen.

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