My Father Loves to Dance

My father loves to dance. He might try to escape every time he sees me in the hall with a playful glint in my eye, but I know that he loves it when I give him a “dance lesson.” In fact, he even wrote a blog entry about the joys of dancing (he may not have said it in so many words, but I can read between the lines.) I went home this weekend, and as I was getting ready for bed, my mom came into the room. Since there is a song constantly playing in my head, I take her hands and begin dancing. My dad walks into the room to tell me good night when he instantly turns away and walks down the hall as fast as possible. I race out of the room to try and catch him. Hearing me crash into the hall wall, he looks over his shoulder and sees me barrel out of the room. His fast walk turns into a desperate run. I almost catch him as I try to wedge my foot in his door before he can close it, but he was a tad bit quicker. Therefore, I only do what any other youngest child would do. I began begging. “Please open the door Daddy! I just want a good night hug!” After a couple of minutes, he finally opens the door a few inches, sticks out his arm and pats me on the back. Then he lets me stick my arm in the door to return the “hug.” I knew that deep down he really wanted to dance, but since it was late, and Sonrise Service was the next morning, he didn’t want me to be tired. What a thoughtful dad. I’ll have to return the thoughtfulness today with an extra-long dance lesson.

I was Wrong. Cheaters do Win

As soon as I wrote my previous blog (I Cannot Cheat), I engaged in a game of Risk with Stephen and four of his friends. After four turns, I was obliterated off the world as all of my countries were invaded and my men crushed. How could this happen to the Cynthiana Baptist Winter Risk Champion, you may ask? I’ll tell you how. Those mischievous Mayfieldians like to make treaties and alliances. Since I just wrote my previous blog, I could not join in on all the corrupt dealings that were happening. Because of my unwillingness to cheat, I finished last. Stephen even beat me, and he usually goes kamikaze after 10 minutes of play.
The moral of the story is, if you’re going to cheat A) don’t get caught B) get your buddies to cheat with you, and C) make sure there’s at least one other person who’s not cheating so they can be the ultimate loser.

I Cannot Cheat

For 18 years I have been taught that cheaters never win. It doesn’t matter if you’re playing euchre or even a friendly game of croquet. Cheating is not an option.
However, last weekend I felt a change in the winds. My friends and I were headed down to Daytonia (Day-tone-ya) and on the way we stopped by Knoxville to visit Stephen’s family. After eating some pretty darn good bar-b-q, the family decided to break out Phase 10. Since I am a Whitaker, and cannot pass up a game of cards, I immediately jump in on the action. This is when I find out that my boyfriend is an avid cheater, much like those fellows down in Corbin, who sticks Wild Cards down his socks. After somehow getting his phase every hand, the family realizes his dirty plot, and he is forced to return to Phase One. I, of course, was shocked with all of the shenanigans going around. Therefore, the next hand I only did what any normal person would do. I was working on a run of nine and all I needed was a five. I looked down at the cards Stephen had already played, and there was a five just screaming “take me, take me.” I slyly reach down and pick up the card, unnoticed. I thought I was home free until I heard “Stephen! What did you do with that five!” Instantly, the entire room turned on Stephen and was threatening to kick him out. I was nearly rolling on the ground with laughter. The look on his face was priceless. I finally admitted that it was I who stole the five, and the room was stunned. I was forced to go back to phase one and now I cannot be in a conversation without a cheating joke thrown in somewhere in the mix. In fact, there are jokes being said that this very moment. I must say that cheaters do finish last, and it is not just a worn out saying. I will never cheat again in my life. Well, until next time at least.

Growing Up

There have been many times in my life where I wonder if I will ever grow up. Just two weeks ago this question once again popped into my mind.
That day had the perfect weather. The temperature was in the mid 60s and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It was the kind of day that my dad would have gone out to work at dawn and not come back until after sunset.
As I was walking back to Knight Hall, a couple of friends asked me if I wanted to go to the park with them. Ha! As if they even had to ask. I will jump at any chance to go and play. The entire way to Jacobson Park I was giddy and practically jumping out of my seat. When we finally got there, I launched out of the car and raced towards the swings. I, not necessarily being the fastest but having the most enthusiasm, won the race to the swings. Of course, no one else new we were racing, but that’s not the point of the story. For hours I played on the swings, slid down slides, raced across the castle, jumped over steaming hot lava, and I even crawled through tires without ever getting my nearly 6 foot frame stuck. All of the parents were giving us weird looks and wondering what these 5 crazy college kids were doing, but we didn’t care. We were just there to have fun and appreciate the beautiful day that God had given us.
That’s when it hit me. I don’t want to grow up. I want to be able to go to a park and pretend that there are crocodiles in the woodchips. I want to be able to swing as high as I can then jump off at the peak of the swing. I want to be able to feel that pure joy that only a child can have.