So, when we sat down for our fancy dinner: corn dogs, peas, and chocolate milk, Tristan was feeling jittering, nearly jumping out of his chair. Now, if you know Tristan, this would not surprise you. He's the type of kid who literally lights up whatever room he's in with his intense energy, a smile that spreads the span of his dimpled face as he cooly swipes his bangs out of his eyes.
"What's the matter? Do you have to go to the bathroom?" I finally asked him.
"No, mom. I just have to dance. I have to get up and practice dancing when I'm done with dinner. Because I haven't danced in a while, and so I need to get up and dance," he said, in his matter of fact tone, that, if it weren't for it's high pitch, you might expect an older child to have said, not a five year old.
It took me back to Jr. High, practicing my moves in the mirror before the big dance. And yet, when the dance came, I ended up just going with it and moving in ways that weren't planned. And then I realized it was silly to practice.
And yet, isn't it funny how when we become adults, we think we can stop practicing? We leave ourselves to our own habits, uncaring if we are better or not, but accepting this is who we are. But I say, Practice to Dance. Dance as if it's eighth grade all over again, but this time you don't care if you look silly or not. You are out to dance in the world, and if you want to dance, son, Dance.
Don't get mad when you aren't good at something right away, because chances are that anyone who is good, has been practicing every day since they were five.
