Funk in the Kitchen

            I arrived home and desperately wanted to exercise, but I didn’t see how I’d have the time. People were arriving in forty-five minutes, and if I wanted to run I’d have to get changed, dress Celia in her warmest winter clothing, go for the run, then take a shower. So, I danced with her.

            My inspiration started when Stevie Wonder’s Boogie on Reggae Woman came on the radio. I cranked the volume up and started jiggling around happily. As usual, when I start dancing Celia starts doing little bounces at first, to mimic me, then comes over with arms outstretched, as if to say, “Pick me up and dance with me, Daddy!”

            We bounced and grooved in the kitchen, where the speakers are loudest. When the song ended, I put in some more dance music, and wiggled all around the kitchen with her for a good solid twenty-five minutes, till I was sweating and Celia was finally ready to be put down.

Dancing can be a lot of exercise, especially the way I like to do it, putting my whole body into it. Now just imagine doing that with a twenty-five pound child in your arms. That’s a workout!

Celia was utterly wired afterward. She went rocketing through the house with a lemon in her hand, making funny faces every time she put it in her mouth, chasing the cat and climbing up things.

She climbs onto the coffee table now. Stands on top of it precariously close to the edge. It makes a father squeamish. Apparently, she climbed onto the kitchen table today. Climbed first onto a chair she’d pulled out, then onto the table itself. Crazy kid. Wonder where she gets all these wild, energetic ideas?