3 thoughts on “After the dance”

  1. Yes well. Er. Yes, this is known as Baba’s Dress When She Was a Girl. That’s how the lil’ monkey refers to it. What I say is that “This was a dress that was put on me when I was a little girl.” You’ll note the use of the passive voice. I have vague memories of this thing and some black patent leather shoes on Sunday mornings when my parents were still contemplating giving my sister and me Proper Exposure to Church (they were half-hearted about both the formal dress-wearing and the church-going, both of which I ultimately appreciated).

    It’s been hanging in her closet since forever, but up ’til recently she hadn’t noticed or cared. Then she clapped eyes on it, after she had begun to fancy twirling around in circles whilst dancing. One needs a good swirly material when one is twirling in circles.

    Daily she asks to wear the dress, and after she does enough twirling (and staggering, and plopping), she more or less ignores it while she goes about her business in the sandbox. The other day she was experimenting what it was like when she squatted with it into a puddle. Took some of the lilt out of the swirl, but the wet hem made a nice spray.

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