Just Dance

Transported into lands of fairies, nursery rhymes and princesses, my arms are often wrapped around miniature giggling females, also known as my energetic granddaughters.  Witnessing the reflection of generations past in a smile, frown, or deep within their beautiful eyes transports me to my childhood days, playing with my grandmother.

What I never realized until recently or remember hearing from my grandmother, was the fatigue that accompanies caring for these little ones. My grandmother, “Elvi” must have grown weary at times, from my demands for card games, shopping, or playing at the park; but if she was, she never shared it with me. I remember with great fondness, her effortless sewing and making little doll dresses for me, baking cookies, reading, cutting paper dolls out of catalogues, and letting me stay up way past by bedtime.

Now, that I have been a grandmother for several years, I am blessed to follow some of the examples set by my grandma. When I am babysitting, we play outside, play dolls, sew dolls, go to the park, bake, and very often, we dance.

Today as I was playing with little Amaya, nothing seemed to settle her.
She was tired, yet wouldn’t rest.
She wanted to play, yet wanted to sit on my lap.
She wanted to sit alone, yet cried when I was out of sight.
She had to see me, and still she fussed.
So I did what I always do–put some happy music on my phone and we danced.

For hours, we sang and swayed to Raffi, singing “Baby Beluga,” “This little light of mine,” “Way down south in the Yankity Yank” and other fun songs that my own children grew up singing.
She was happy.
My legs were giving out
I sat down
She cried
I danced
She giggled
That’s ok, my legs needed the workout.

Perhaps one day, Alexa, Amaya and Annia will share some of our playtime escapades with their grandchildren; and look into their eyes and see me.

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