What it's all about
When visiting relatives over the holidays, there are always times when one or more members of the family simply need to get out of the house. A day or two before Christmas, it was my turn to get stir crazy and I headed out for a walk. "Who wants to go with me?" I asked.
"Me!" was the answer from Fi. No one else was interested, so off Fi and I went.
Not long into the walk, Fi started singing Jingle Bells. I joined in for a minute before Fi firmly declared, "No singing!" Her own song didn't last much longer before she tripped on a tilted sidewalk slab and music was forgotten for a while.
She also used the excuse to have me carry her, since she was getting tired of walking anyway. Another quarter-mile down the road, I got tired of carrying her and had her sit on my shoulders instead. We walked through the crisp-but-comfortable Kentucky air while Fi pointed out Santa or reindeer or candy canes or whatever the next house in view was decorated with, but soon that got old as well and and she fell silent for a few minutes.
After a while, she began to sing again quietly. However, as she was above my head, the tune was difficult to hear and I couldn't quite place it. Daadadaa-da-da-da, daadadaa-da-da-da. As I stepped around a sewer grate, her fingers grabbed onto my hair for stability, but her indeterminate song continued softly. I pondered how to ask her which song it was, but I couldn't figure out how to phrase the question so she could answer it. However, I didn't have to wait long to get my answer.
Her hands still clutching my hair, she suddenly moved my head from side to side while loudly singing, "Shake it all about." I proceeded to do the Hokey Pokey and turn ourselves around, because--as Fi happily sang--that's what it's all about.
"Me!" was the answer from Fi. No one else was interested, so off Fi and I went.
Not long into the walk, Fi started singing Jingle Bells. I joined in for a minute before Fi firmly declared, "No singing!" Her own song didn't last much longer before she tripped on a tilted sidewalk slab and music was forgotten for a while.
She also used the excuse to have me carry her, since she was getting tired of walking anyway. Another quarter-mile down the road, I got tired of carrying her and had her sit on my shoulders instead. We walked through the crisp-but-comfortable Kentucky air while Fi pointed out Santa or reindeer or candy canes or whatever the next house in view was decorated with, but soon that got old as well and and she fell silent for a few minutes.
After a while, she began to sing again quietly. However, as she was above my head, the tune was difficult to hear and I couldn't quite place it. Daadadaa-da-da-da, daadadaa-da-da-da. As I stepped around a sewer grate, her fingers grabbed onto my hair for stability, but her indeterminate song continued softly. I pondered how to ask her which song it was, but I couldn't figure out how to phrase the question so she could answer it. However, I didn't have to wait long to get my answer.
Her hands still clutching my hair, she suddenly moved my head from side to side while loudly singing, "Shake it all about." I proceeded to do the Hokey Pokey and turn ourselves around, because--as Fi happily sang--that's what it's all about.