Life With Gumby

I find living with a serious dancer a bit disconcerting at times. Our daughter moves with a grace and agility that can truly inspire and amaze me. She contends that in order for her to maintain her grace and agility she needs to be stretching constantly. So she stretches. Constantly. It's not uncommon to see her all twisted up like a pretzel on the floor while doing her homework, or witness her trying to get her foot up over her head as she's scrounging for food in the kitchen, or looking like she's doing a one-woman game of Twister while texting with her friends. It's all sort of impressive in its own weird way. It also makes my own body object and revolt on her behalf, a sort of full body gag; a motherly-reptilian alarm signalling that my child's body is contorted in a way that under normal circumstances would require a hospital visit. (Alright, fine. It may also be true that the alarm is warning me that if I get a wild hair and decide to throw my own 37-year old leg up onto the refrigerator, I'll get a swift and intimate knowledge of the term shock and awe....)
So I stand aside and admire. And cringe. And gag.

She auditioned for and was cast as one of the leading roles in Portland Metro Performing Arts' Coppelia this year which is an incredible honor. Beyond intense rehearsals six days a week, it can only mean that we'll be seeing Sydney hopping on one foot with the other over her head while trying to catch the bus for school. I'll be sure to document.