Lyndi
ThevideoendsandI blink. Once. Then twice.
“Let me get this straight. I tell you I want to be my own queen, and you want me to dowhat? Twerk online?”
Maddie’s face contorts. “Ew, don’t say it like that. You should never twerkonanything.”
“When you invited me over for dinner, you didn’t tell me I’d have to dance,” I say, pointing at the now blank phone screen. Thirty seconds ago it displayed a group of pre-teens moving their bodies in the weirdest way I’ve ever seen. And I grew up during Gangnam Style.
I take a sip of my soda. I should have known something was up when Maddie offered me a Dr Pepper instead of the regular vitamin-infused water she insists is amazing for the body. It hasn’t given me a six-pack yet, so I haven’t felt the need to adopt it into my life.
“I’ve heard that dance is a form of therapy,” Maddie muses.
Therapy, I could use. Public humiliation, not so much.
“Dancing is one thing. Putting a video of me dancing on the internet is a whole other thing,” I say. Supposedly people can make a lot of money by becoming influencers online. But watching me dance will only influence people tonotdance. “Why do you even want to do this?”
Maddie is as straight and rigid as they come. I know her crazy side, but few others do.
She looks away and starts gathering dishes. “Someone was talking about it at school, and I wanted to see what all the fuss is about.”
She’s leaving something out. For wanting to be a lawyer, she’s always been terrible at lying.
“Maddie…?”
“Fine.” She sighs and plops down at the table, her body folding into her chair in a very un-Maddie-like fashion. “Someone at work accused me of having a stick up my a—”
“Hey!” I cut her off before she says something Crew will repeat in the grocery store or any other inconvenient location.
“I’m done,” Crew announces, dropping his fork to his plate and jumping off his chair. One of these days he’s going to break something.
Maddie smooths back her already smooth ponytail. “Anyway, I just, I don’t know. Remember when we used to be young and fun?”
“Speak for yourself. I’m lots of fun. Just ask Crew.” Something crashes in the living room and I cringe.
“Ice cream for breakfast isn’t fun, that’s just lazy parenting.” Maddie smirks when I glare at her.
“That was once! On his birthday!”
“I know, I know.” Maddie chuckles.
She’s right though. I used to be fun. Like, stay-up-past-nine fun. Now I’m just tired. “I’m too old for fun.”
“Stop.” Maddie aims a finger at me. “That right there is what we are putting a stop to. You’re not too old or too “mom” for anything. You can do whatever the heck you want. Stop letting your insecurities talk you out of doing things for yourself.”
She can give a pretty good pep talk when she wants to.
“Crew, tell Mommy if she dances, she’ll get ice cream.”
I fold my arms. “You can’t bribe me through my child.”
Crew bounces on the couch. “Mommy, do it so I can get ice cream.”
Much deadlier.
“Fine. But don’t blame me when you get terrible views on it because of my mom moves,” I finally cave. For my child. And maybe also for the ice cream. I’m only human.
“Oh no, I’m making you an account,” Maddie says, swiping my phone out of my hand before I have a chance to stop her.
