Since we dance on the other end of the state–okay, not quite, but close–we do a lot of carpooling. And I loooooooveeee listening to the conversations that go on between the girls. This one happens to be an oldie but goodie. (Cliche!) Just had to share.
DanceDiva1: Oh my gosh, in ballroom I had to dance with this boy, and it was so gross. He had warty hands.
DancingDaughter: FORTY HANDS? How could he have forty hands?
(Massive attack of giggles. Finally subsides.)
DanceDiva1: Not FORTY hands. Warty hands.
DanceDiva2: What would you do if you had forty hands?
DancingDaughter: You’d have them everywhere. Coming out of your head and your hips, and your stomach.
DanceDiva1: Ewwwww. You’d have to get surgery and get them cut off.
DancingDaughter: But what if you could only get one cut off? Which one would you choose?
DanceDiva2: Definitely the one on my head. I mean, how could you walk around with a freaking hand coming out of your head?
DanceDiva1: I would not want a hand on my stomach.
DancingDaughter: Yeah, but maybe if you had a hand down with your feet you could dance better.
DanceDiva2: Either that or you would trip over your own hands.
Top on the list of reasons why we should find a closer dance studio.