Socialization

Our family, as a whole, hasn't been doing too well in the social arena as of late.

Last week, as I was packing for my business meeting, I incorrectly assumed that I could pull off wearing regular-sized panty hose, despite a midriff that is measuring 46-inches. Funny enough, they fit me perfectly fine when I was standing up. It was only when I would sit down that they would cinch around my waist and almost instantly cut off the circulation to my legs.

Considering my circumference has extended by approximately 20-inches since I've last worn this pair of hosiery, I was a bit uncomfortable and distracted. Because my entire focus was centered on the pain raging around my abdomen, I was completely oblivious to the people seated all around me. Instead of excusing myself to the restroom to remove the undergarment which was cutting me in two, I grabbed a hold of the nylons with both hands, and pulled with all my might until a rip echoed around the room.

Followed by my big sigh of relief.

Today, Charlie and I took the children to their creative dance class. While we stood in a circle and danced like elephants, dolphins and giraffes, our children played on the ballet bar.

They laid on the floor.

They chased each other around a small corner of the studio.

They played with the blinds.

They did everything except dance.

While Charlie and I danced with all the other 2-year olds, who were more than anxious to participate in the class, our children would scream whenever another human being came within 3-feet of them.

I'm hopeful that the kids will embrace this activity, soon. Otherwise, Charlie and I will be the oldest participants in the upcoming recital.

After the dance class let out, we headed over to a local park.

While I chased two toddlers from play equipment to play equipment ... Charlie stood at the swings and would take turns pushing which ever child wanted a ride. As I was running past, I was lucky enough to catch a conversation he was having with a woman standing next to him.

She said, "Hey, wait a minute. That isn't the same baby you were just pushing, is it? I thought a minute ago you were pushing a blonde boy and now you're pushing a brunette girl!"

Charlie responded, "No, this is a different child. I have three kids and each one is taking a turn on the swing. My triplets are 2.5-years old and my wife..." he waved over to me, "is expecting our fourth."

And then he added, "I'm a swinger."

The mother gasped and a second later, Charlie gasped even louder.

He tried to take it back, but it was too late.

"Wha ... wha ... what I meant to say is that I SWING children!! I'm not a swinger!!"

Another couple weeks from now and I guarantee that the convulsion of laughter I fell in to, would have resulted in a puddle around my feet - overshadowed by my 4-foot girth.

We either need to get out more ... or wait until everyone forgets who we are before stepping foot in public, again.