Everyone's definition of "crazy" is a little bit different, which is why I figured I would follow up watching the crazies jump in the river with a little bit of my own brand of crazy. I took Alexis to see Burn the Floor. Again.
I actually didn't initially think it was all that wild and crazy of an act, but when I realized that she was one of only two kids in the entire audience, I started to wonder. When we took our seats and a woman behind us audibly complained about Alexis' presence to her companion, I got a little self-conscious. I mean, I know the kid is capable of sitting through a show, but maybe it was asking a bit much to expect her to sit through two hours of ballroom dancing. It didn't exactly go smoothly the first time.
Alexis is too short to see the stage if anyone sits directly in front of her, so I hauled her butt up onto my lap just as the curtain lifted. She ooh'd. She aah'd. She whispered that she recognized some of the dancers. She declared some of the boys "cute" and some of the girls "beautiful."
And she started to squirm.
A lot.
I fussed and fussed at her, until she finally effectively explained that she wasn't being a wiggly douchenugget, she was actually dancing along with the show. While it's highly annoying to have a tail bone repeatedly smashed into your leg, it was sort of cute once I understood the reasons for the ants in her pants. And painful. Emphasis on PAINFUL.
When the intermission finally rolled around, offering me a moment of relief from the pain, I turned to give the woman who had rudely commented a little glare. I'm mature like that. She met my eyes and immediately turned to Alexis. "You're being so good, honey. Do you like the dancing?" she said.
MY KID WAS BEING GOOD! Or at least she had fooled a stranger into thinking so! RAWK!
The woman and Alexis (she is not too shy to speak when spoken to!) chatted for a moment, and somewhere in there the woman commented on the behavior of the two twenty-somethings seated next to us. I already knew what she was going to say, given that Alexis had repeatedly tattled on them, and that I had already bitten a hole in my tongue (literally) trying to keep from telling them to shut their faces.
They had not stopped talking for so much as five seconds throughout the first half of the show. My four-year old knows it's rude to talk while people are performing, but those airheads couldn't figure it out. SO ANNOYING.
For the record, they thought Mark Ballas was SOOOOO HOT. Like, OMG! Look how hot he is! He's so hot! Oooooh! Hot! Look at him! HOT!
I'm pretty sure they had never seen a boy without a shirt in their lives. Actually, if one of you airheads is reading this, email me. I have a photo of dozens of shirtless Ken dolls that look just like Mark Ballas shirtless. It'll make your day and maybe next time you go to a show, you won't feel the need to add a horny soundtrack to the whole thing.
Ahem.
So, long story short, my kid behaved at a show. Mark Ballas is hot. I didn't physically harm anyone.
I call that a New Years win.
