Pee on the Dancefloor…

Having seen it happen many times to other kids and parents at dance class, it was inevitable that Greta would wet herself during class at least once. And today it happened in spades. I’m not kidding, they need to sound a flash flood warning when Greta pees, because, she unleases a torrent.

Luckily for us, it was a “Black Swan” day — that’s what Greta calls herself when she wears her black on black leotard and tights — so the pee running down her legs and filling her tap shoes was hardly visible at all. At least to anyone else. And even luckier still was the fact that Greta wasn’t embarrassed at all about peeing herself in class. Some of the girls run out of the studio in tears, so, I was worried she might do the same. But, actually, I think Greta thought it was kinda funny.

So, I just smiled, whisked her into the bathroom, and quickly changed her from a dripping-wet “Black Swan” to a freshly-scrubbed “White Swan” quicker than you can say spare leotards and tights. Three minutes later, she was back out there dancing her little heart out. And when the class ended, I even got a shout-out from Greta’s teacher, the comely Miss Sommer, who looked me square in the eye and said: “Good recovery, Dad!”

Thank you kindly, Miss Sommer. It’s good to know that sometimes, even I get it right.

My Time

Spent Saturday ringing in the 80th birthday of my Grandmother with family and friends. The party itself was great, lots of food, retro candy bars, pink lemonade, sweet-ass cupcakes and entirely way too many songs sung by my aunts and uncles. Yep, you heard me right, during the speechifying portion of the party, several of the children sang their tributes to my Grandma and it was…well, kind of a freak show.

It’s not to say they can’t sing, because some of them totally can, but, wow…watching these grown-ass men and women duke it out for their solo in the spotlight was beyond unsavory. Fearful that one of his siblings might be getting more attention than himself, one of my uncles actually started juggling in the middle of the after-party at my Grandma’s house. Juggling! He even brought his own juggling clown bowling pins and shit. Like I said…total freak show.

Anyway, at that same after-party I struck up a conversation with one of my singing aunts (who is usually my favorite of the freak show faction of the family) and told her how great she looked. “Have you lost weight?” I asked. “Yes, almost 25 pounds!” She purred back. I pressed her further for details — which wasn’t hard, considering how much this aunt likes to talk, especially about herself — and she explained that she too was on Project X.

Hearing this, I got very excited and told her that Mrs. Yeti and I were trying really hard to stick to the tenets of Project X ourselves. Hearing this, my Aunt stopped cold, quickly scanned my body from head to toe and said: “Well, when it’s your time, you’ll stick to the diet.” She then leaned in real close, put a hand on each of my shoulders and said: “But, hey, you’re good as you are right now too.”

Silence. I just stood there for a stunned beat, staring at my aunt. Did that big old pot just call my kettle ass fat? I mean, wow, if she’s this nice when I compliment her, just imagine what she’d be like if I said something mean. Of course, I knew her heart was in the right place and that she didn’t mean to sound like a smug, little, newly-thin bitch, but, unfortunately, that’s exactly what she sounded like. And, instead of thinking of some pithy comeback all I did was grumble silently to myself, for like, fifteen minutes straight, while she spouted off all the great things that have happened to her since she lost the weight. Seriously, she was giving me recipes and shit. It was brutal.

Luckily I was pulled away to the living room at that point by Mrs. Yeti (good save, sweetie!) so, I never got the chance to punch my aunt in her newly flat gut or lay her low with some snappy, withering comeback. But, trust me, I’m working on it, and the next time we meet in the field of battle, dear Auntie, I won’t be so easily defeated.

In the meantime, back to Project X. One week to go till the reunion and whether it’s “my time” or not, I’m gonna lose me some more weight…if for no other reason than to shove it down my Aunt’s warbling gullet. Ah, ain’t family grand?