Minnie Ryder’s story is built upon the solid blocks of plastic with which imaginations run wild and the spare bits and pieces are sure to be strewn everywhere.
Burlexplanations…they happen all the time and every once in a great while we decide to share an experience. I’m still waiting on the back story to someone gluing their cheeks together BUTT until then we’ll go with this cautionary tale of lost legos being found in an unfortunate manner.
Some of my burlesque routines involve tap dancing. One of my favorite places to practice fancy footwork is in the kitchen because I can squeeze in a few minutes while serving up meals to hungry hyper kids. This is one of those tappy occasions where I don’t have time to put on my shoes but want to work on combinations while my toddler daughter is enjoying a lunch and “mom show” in her throne of a high chair.
I start off by warming up with basic movements. Super! Done! I’ve got just a few more minutes so begin working on a section of routine which involves a couple of triple time steps. Just a note beforehand, sometimes I put way too much emphasis on ball of my foot when I’m doing ball changes You see where this is going, yes? Ok! I stomped the hell out of my ball change and felt a searing jolt of pain travel through my foot all the way up to my neck. Dropping the floor, clasping my right foot and moaning in agony I look up at my toddler who is staring at me quizzically. As the pain slowly receded I looked around for the culprit of my demise. There’s a small lego ship nearby with a red 4 hole piece next to my rearend. I look at my foot and right under the ball and in the soft sole area there are two tiny holes.
It looks like a tiny vampire bit my foot. All of this happens in a matter of seconds but pain seems to stretch the span of time. The hurt has been replaced with rage as I can think of two kiddos who could have left legos on the floor. One of which was playing with his at the table before breakfast just a few hours earlier. Limping into the living room where video games are a’playing I’m about to release my wrath when I see the boys playing and getting along on the couch. This is a precious moment, to have the eldest and middle kid getting along so I growl and mutter half-heartedly about their damn legos and hop back into the kitchen where my daughter has decided since the entertainment has ended she must end her meal and get out of the high chair. “DOWN! MOMMY! DOWN!” So life continues, I had two weeks to heel (get it? heel?) before the show and my timesteps, drawbershays, and stomps go off without a hitch.
The moral of the story is to make sure your practice area is clear before practicing and maybe wear shoes too. And don’t buy legos for your kids. You know how glitter is the herpes of burlesque? Legos are the herpes of parenthood…or at least this phase of it.
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