We tell no one

There's an elephant in the room. About a certain little video that's floating around on Facebook. I've avoided the topic long enough. However, we have come to the part of the program where we must talk about the dance.

There was no dancing at my wedding. Even if the church would have allowed it, this bride had not even attended a dance until college and those were awkward enough. Neither the bride nor her father would have known what to do and it, too would have been awkward. Since I married outside my denomination (until they merged a few years later), and since the Good Doctor was one of "those" Mennonites who attended proms and homecomings and knew what to do at a dance, he would have felt right at home in his dancing shoes. My body parts, as Rosita says in Victor's favorite movie, Sing, just aren't responding.

So, little known fact. I have an identical twin sister. And I employed her services for the mother/son dance.

True story.

She and Andrew planned the whole thing.

It was...interesting...to say the least. But who am I to criticize? I washed my hands of the whole deal.

It was...entertaining. We'll give them that.

Or maybe it went something like this...

Sarah: You guys need to pick a song for the mother/son dance.

1 month later.

Sarah: Okay, you guys really need to pick a song for the mother/son dance.

Andrew: Okay, mom, can you find something?

Me...Google search, youtube search, everything's sappy or romantic, been done, boring..

Me: I got nothin'. Can you find something?

Andrew: Nothin'.

Me: Okay, Andrew, here's the deal. Neither one of us is sappy or romantic. This needs to be creative and unique. You in?

Andrew...full agreement with one exception: No mash-ups. Got it.

We throw a few song ideas back and forth. Finally, Andrew types, Don't You Forget About Me. Bingo! He insists it needs a little Breakfast Club throwback at the end. I comply. Whatever. But then...

Me: Ummmm, who is going to help us choreograph this thing?

Andrew: Ana?

Me: Perfect. I'll ask her.

She was all in. She didn't yet know exactly who she was working with. Nor did she yet know that we had chosen a song which cannot be danced. She thinks everyone can move as directed and that we have chosen a song for its dance-ability, not its craziness. But when she and I visited Andrew in Kentucky, we spent a whole evening in his dance studio (ie. furniture-less living room), figuring the whole thing out. And since it's not really the greatest quality, we are supposed to tell you that she had nothing to do with it. Nothing at all.

And then, the best part...

Andrew: Who should we tell?

Me: No one. Especially not Dad... Well, do you think you should tell Sarah? Will she be okay with a surprise?

Andrew: She'll be fine. We tell no one.

Me: Fine. Then as far as anyone is concerned, we're doing a traditional mother/son dance to Beautiful Boy by John Lennon.

Andrew: I'll tell Sarah that we've chosen our song.

So, Sarah, if this wasn't okay with you...it was all my identical twin. You can take it up with her.

And to the Good Doctor, every time I practiced by myself in the kitchen, I thought of what your face would look like when the song started, and I'd laugh and laugh. I only wish those cameras were on you, and not me.

I mean...my identical twin sister.