It was not a dark and stormy night, but…

So… not surprisingly, Week 2 of Nutcracker rehearsals went just as “well” as the first week.

For starters, my dance partner stepped on my toe again. Another dancing dad who was twirling lopsided-ly beside us heard me say, “Ow,” and looked over at me concerned. My dance partner told him, “Oh, don’t worry, I did that to her last week, too…” and we both finished his thought together: “It’ll only happen a few hundred more times.” My partner looked at me and smiled. The other dad looked at both of us, squinting at us like we were crazy, and twirled away.

Meanwhile, I began to note something minty fresh in the air, and then observed the chewing of gum going on in my dance partner’s mouth. Such an improvement over the habits of my previous partner who had smelled like a distillery, obscured only by the pungent smell of his feet and the unfortunate distraction of his soft clammy hands. By comparison, my current partner is clean and wears fresh clothes.

Which brings me to my next topic of the evening….

At one point, my partner seemed embarrassed and felt the need to state the obvious: that he was wearing shorts in the fall because of the spring-like temperatures outside. He directed my attention to his lower body and said, “Chicken legs.” I nodded in quiet agreement. It was then that I surveyed him in full, looking for more chicken parts, and noticed the zipper on his shirt where a pocket appeared to be hiding beneath a panel of fabric. I said nothing about it almost the entire evening but finally, after seeing the little zipper pull swing back and forth all night, my curiosity got the better of me.

So I told him, “Umm… your zipper is driving me crazy.” He looked at me like I’d lost my mind, “THIS zipper?” And he pointed to his shirt. “YES!” I confirmed. He then felt compelled to move the zipper to the opposite side of the zip. “OMG, are you trying to kill me???” I asked. “Why on earth would you unzip a zipper that didn’t need any zipping at all?” So I reached forward, grabbed the end of the zipper and zipped it closed. He made a move to (presumably) fix it. But I warned him, “Don’t touch it again.”

At that point, he diverted my attention to the windows where the blinds were completely closed. “Wow… it’s really coming down out there. Oh, wait. Is that rain or the air conditioner?” We listened for a moment. “My guess is it’s the air conditioner, not that we can feel it in here.” Within a few minutes he had moved across the room without me and was peeking through the blinds to double-check, “Nope. Not rain. Must be the air.” “Oh, good,” I told him, “Your chicken legs are safe, then.”

Soon after, the rehearsal was over and he made a hasty exit without so much as a fare-thee-well… or should I say, he flew the coop.

So, see? Not an eventful evening at all.


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