Saturday Evening Post
Cade was my little entertainer as a youngster.
I’m not sure if it stemmed from his early years of Kindermusik classes or not. I’m pretty sure it may have played a part in his undeniable need to be acknowledged every time he performed.
I’m not talking about a real get up on stage and do something artsy (ie dance, sing or play a musical instrument) kind of performance.
I’m talking about any little thing he did that constituted “cuteness” in any way.
For instance: skipping across the room and placing his hands on the step (handstand style) and kicking his leg up in the air and holding it there until someone applauded.
And mind you, you did NOT forget to applaud.
Then there was the “butt dance” as my parents so lovingly referred to it as.
I hope this doesn’t offend anyone, but I’m going to explain to you exactly what a “butt dance” is.
Remember peeps, little boys (at least my little boys) have no modesty. At least not till around age seven.
As Cade would get out of the bath, naked as a jaybird and after drying off, he would always run around the house sans clothing, robe or towel.
Just as soon as he noticed anyone that might possibly be an audience to his obscene, if not quirky little desire to be center of attention he would stop.
Dead in his tracks.
Reach back with both hands.
Grab a butt cheek in each hand. Stretch them apart.
Then do what appeared to be some sort of crab walk.
He would keep this little escapade up till he was satisfied that everyone in the “audience” noticed what he was doing.
He has now been a “butt dancer” for approximately five years.
That is. . . . . . .up until six months ago.
When out of the blue he just gave up his “butt dance” career.
. . . . .and got modest.
