I’m not a huge reality TV fan. I just don’t get into watching some has-been live their life that is still better than mine. That is of course, unless that has-been is DANCING! If that’s the case then I’m glued to the screen and I love it, love it, love it! I’ve never watched an entire season because our Tivo has stuff that conflicts with the time slot, so I only catch episodes when I actually remember what day it is (seriously, I forget all the time).
Today was the results show and normally I wouldn’t have watched it. I get all empathetic for the loser and it’s just too traumatic for me. I realize that this further classifies me as crazy, but I’m okay with it. Anyway, I decided to watch so I could at least see the recap of the dances. Of course, I got totally into it and to my delight, so did Ella. She was bouncing through the entire encore dance with little squeals of delight sneaking out from behind her binky. At the end of the dance she immediately started clapping and cheering “yaaaaaay”. So adorable, that kid of mine!
The best part though was her facination with the guest dancer. None other than the Lord of the Dance, Michael Flatley. Oh yes, you read that correctly. We were both in Shock and Awe mode as we watched his silver-heeled boots pound across the dance floor. Ella was in such awe that I couldn’t even get her to look at the camera. She stood like this through the entire performance:
She was in such a good mood after the show was over that I figured we would stay up together to wait for Tom to get home and let him put her to bed. She was acting tired though so I picked her up and tried to get her to “snuggle down” (as we say in the Schroeder household). Ha! Foolish mother! What would make me think that Ella being in a good mood would change that fact that she is NOT TO BE TOUCHED AT BEDTIME!? After about 5 minutes of her screaming IN MY EAR and thrashing about violently, I put her down on the floor. She immediately crawled over to my shoes and collapsed on top of them, patting the laces with affection.
Excuse me?! How are old, nasty, stinky shoes better than your own flesh and blood? Maybe it’s because they were Super Girl shoes? Is she telling me that she will not carry on the Justice Girl torch no matter how many hours I was in labor with her? She didn’t snuggle with the shoe for too long (could have had to do with the overwhelming stinky feet smell) but she did play with them for a good 10 minutes, which is pretty long for a one year old.
Finally I got sick of all the Super Girl Shoe Love so I burrito wrapped her in a blanket, took her into the dark office and attempted to rock her to sleep. She struggled for a little bit but I had Fiest playing in the background and man does she love that 1234 song. She loves it so much that she didn’t even care that Mom was TOUCHING her and she fell asleep, IN MY ARMS!