Thursday, June 25, 2009

Dancer, singer, one-hit wonder

We've been watching re-runs of that excellent programme, 'Dancing with the Stars', in which celebrities who have not so much as spelt 'rumba' in their lives are transformed into dance-floor delights thanks to the maniacal efforts of professional partners. Neither Mum nor Pa has ever ventured into the realm of ballroom or Latin dance - but it looks as though Sonny can't wait to give it a try.

A day or so ago, Pa was just tapping his toes in his own painful impersonation of a crippled dancer possibly half-asleep when our little fella stepped up. With a self-important air, he began raising and lowering his right foot more-or-less rhythmically, while glancing up at the hdults in the room as though expecting a storm of applause.

There was no doubting it. He was trying a bit of soft-shoeing! Granted, a bit of leg-raising does not prove that he's bound for stardom, but one has to start somewhere. Unfortunately, the season of 'Dancing' that we've been following has just ended, but just as soon as another one gets underway, we'll be plumping our son in front of the TV and encouraging him to do a few lifts and wobbles here and there.

Meanwhile, we have had another smidgen of evidence of a certain musicality. The little fella's grandmother has been singing 'Twinkle twinkle little star' to him, and after a bit of coaxing, he's learned the right juncture (just after 'Twinkle twinkle little...' or 'How I wonder what you...') at which to bawl out 'STAR!' or 'ARE!'. Well, actually, he just shouts out 'ARRR' both times, but at least he's not randomly interjecting, but instead waiting for a logical rhythmic climax. If we switch to a different verse, to boot, Sonny will stay silent - as though he has enough of a grasp of the lyrics to know that different words need to be slotted into the pauses.

Unfortunately, after one year and two months, that's all we harvested by way of proof that he isn't going to be leaden-footed, tone-deaf shower-singing disaster. But it's better than nothing - or so we keep telling ourselves.

Quite possibly leading ourselves on a merry dance of self-delusion.