The Boy Who Wouldn’t Dance
By Dianne Lowe-Breakfield
If my aging memory serves me correctly, he was about five or six years old. He was such a beautiful boy, with the sweetest personality. Saying I was, am, a very proud grandmother is, was, an understatement. I was never one of those people who thought Barbie dolls and dancing was just for girls, so when my daughter told me she had enrolled my oldest grandson in dance, I was excited for both of them.
When the recital came, I was there right beside his mom, ready to enjoy all that he had learned that year in dance. Before he took the stage, he asked her and me to bend over and listen to him. We exchanged bemused looks and bent over as the child had requested. He tenderly, yet purposefully, placed one hand on his mother’s cheek and the other on mine. Then, he looked us both deeply in the eyes and said, "I promise I will dance if both of you shut your eyes and don't watch."
Both my daughter and I looked him in the eye, and promised not to watch him dance. We then exchanged amused looks and giggled all the way to our seats.
The curtain came up, the lights shined down on the dance group and glinted off of their matching dance outfits, and then the music began. The children were all just so cute. You could hear the oohs and aahs from all over the theater as they twirled and whirled around the stage, some losing step, some falling down, some hitting every step like a pro. All that is, except for one small, blonde haired boy who stood perfectly still in the same place his teacher told him to be when his class took the stage. He didn't take a single step left or right, nor did his gaze leave his shoes until the routine was complete. He then took his place in line and walked off the stage with the rest of his group.
My daughter and I looked at each other and laughed harder than I can remember us laughing together in a long time. We barely caught our breath when he came running out of the back and down the aisle toward us, looking so proud. For the life of me I cannot remember if it was her or me who said to him, "You didn't even dance. You just stood there."
Without even missing a beat, he looked at us both with total disapproval and simply stated, "You looked."
Edited by Melissa Brooks
By Dianne Lowe-Breakfield
If my aging memory serves me correctly, he was about five or six years old. He was such a beautiful boy, with the sweetest personality. Saying I was, am, a very proud grandmother is, was, an understatement. I was never one of those people who thought Barbie dolls and dancing was just for girls, so when my daughter told me she had enrolled my oldest grandson in dance, I was excited for both of them.
When the recital came, I was there right beside his mom, ready to enjoy all that he had learned that year in dance. Before he took the stage, he asked her and me to bend over and listen to him. We exchanged bemused looks and bent over as the child had requested. He tenderly, yet purposefully, placed one hand on his mother’s cheek and the other on mine. Then, he looked us both deeply in the eyes and said, "I promise I will dance if both of you shut your eyes and don't watch."
Both my daughter and I looked him in the eye, and promised not to watch him dance. We then exchanged amused looks and giggled all the way to our seats.
The curtain came up, the lights shined down on the dance group and glinted off of their matching dance outfits, and then the music began. The children were all just so cute. You could hear the oohs and aahs from all over the theater as they twirled and whirled around the stage, some losing step, some falling down, some hitting every step like a pro. All that is, except for one small, blonde haired boy who stood perfectly still in the same place his teacher told him to be when his class took the stage. He didn't take a single step left or right, nor did his gaze leave his shoes until the routine was complete. He then took his place in line and walked off the stage with the rest of his group.
My daughter and I looked at each other and laughed harder than I can remember us laughing together in a long time. We barely caught our breath when he came running out of the back and down the aisle toward us, looking so proud. For the life of me I cannot remember if it was her or me who said to him, "You didn't even dance. You just stood there."
Without even missing a beat, he looked at us both with total disapproval and simply stated, "You looked."
Edited by Melissa Brooks
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