Rhythm is a Dancer

There are a few things in life that you can count on. Death, taxes, empty milk carton on the fridge when you go to make your coffee, and doing things that you don’t really want to do.

This week, one of the staff members at our (bloody awesome) local high school and I have been playing phone ping-pong, trying to get together to discuss Horatio’s lack of enthusiasm towards a particular practical unit of work.

Yes, I am talking rhythmic gymnastics. It is important to note that Horatio is in the throes of adolescence, just hit six feet tall, communicates in a series of grunts and thinks his footy mates are the best people in the world. All in all, quite your typical teenager I suspect, and I am finding it “interesting” to decipher between what is bad behaviour and was is hormonal behaviour, something that I am quite the expert in discovering in myself.

“Do I want to race to the airport and buy a one way ticket to WHEREVER because I am hormonally angry or just normal angry?”

For the record, whoever thought it would be a fun, scientific experiment to put a peri-menopausal woman and a hormonal, grunting teenager together under one roof, may your crotch be infested with the thirsty fleas of a thousand camels, for we are not amused.

But I digress…

“When am I ever going to need a ribbon routine in real life?” Horatio pleads his case.

And I get this. I recall being in Year 7 and for some reason we were all taught Latin. And I cannot begin to say how handy my written work was.

Steve est in culina est in cubiculo Martinus Martini in Steve, which of course means

Steve is in the kitchen

Martine is in the bedroom

Steve is in Martine

Oh the horror on the face of my geriatric Latin teacher! I was sent from the classroom in disgust!

But one can not be 100% certain that Horatio will not need to know an extensive ribbon rhythmic gymnastic routine in his lifetime! Who knows what the future holds? Perhaps he might find himself locked up abroad one day, and only have a piece of ribbon to amuse himself? Without his prior experience, his days would be more tedious that ever. He might even be able to exchange his talents for scraps of food and half smoked cigarettes from grateful guards! Whats not to say that he gets a job in the entertaining section of a cruise ship staff, thanks to his prowess with that ribbon. Travel + Twirling = PROFESSIONAL SUCCESS!

But I hope the main message and lesson that I am able to pass onto my boy, is that sometimes you have to do things that you don’t want to do, even when it makes no sense at all. NOW WORK IT BOY!

Finis!

What was the most useless lesson that you remember from high school?