One of my little darlings invented a song and hip gyration exhibition that I have dubbed "The Ravioli Dance." It starts out cute. The song she sings is actually creative and funny. But then the hips start and it is just a pole and a pair of stilettos away from an alternate career path.
Curtailing the Ravioli Dance has been a priority mission for about 3 weeks now.
The Ravioli Dance snuck into the spring music program of old TV themes when the girls did a routine to "I Dream of Jeannie." Even amid all the brightly-colored genie scarves waving, I recognized it from the back row.
Today, the superintendent came by my room and some of the boys did a little skit for him. And then, before I could stop it, she was standing in front of him, asking if he wanted to see her dance. I rushed over to intervene... but I was too late. It was like slow motion and I couldn't get there before The Ravioli Dance in all its inappropriate glory commenced right there in the doorway, much to my mortification.
So. I gently admonish her to return to her seat and as I reach over to guide her in that direction, Super leans in laughing, and whispers to me "Did you teach her that?"
9 more days.
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