Wednesday came as a surprise which I only really noted on Thursday. Either Tuesday or Wednesday I had been dancing at the Chine when a tiny blonde boy wrapped in a towel came over to me.
“Hello,” I always say to indicate that I am in communicative mode.
“What are you doing?”
“Because I enjoy it and I am a show-off.”
“I know what you are doing.”
“You’re dancing freestyle,” at least that is what I thought he had said, later his mother would suggest something else.
I went for a drink, sat a while and then returned to dancing. The boy came back without his towel and started to step and jump. Remember he is TINY and he was doing a pretty good job even though his feet are not going in the same direction that mine go, he stumbles and flings his arms around, but he is TINY and doing a good job.
I walk over to the woman I believe to be his mother. “He’s fantastic,” I say to her, how old is he?. “Four,” she replies, “He knows all your moves.” FOUR! Mum goes on to explain that they have seen me many times passing on the beach and that each time he jumps up and does what I am doing. I tell her that it is remarkable at that age to be that good. She says, “What did he say to you? That he knows what you are doing, you’re dancing street style?” I went back and tried to show him my Bob Fossy choreography and am amused that while he sort of copies it, he cannot spot that I am moving my leg behind and he is moving his in front. This separates experienced 60 year olds from up and coming 4 year olds. I told him he was great when I could have said, “You still aren’t as good as me kiddo.” (When I am 66 and he is 10 he’ll have me beaten.)