France - Elaine Abery

“Dance, lance, prance, France.”

“What ARE you on about?”

“Chance, trance, glance…”

“Gibberish! Pure. Utter. Gibberish.”

“Crance, hance, manse…”

“La la la. I’ve got my fingers in my ears. I can’t hear you.”

“HA HA HA. You’re hilarious. You can't hide your rhyming disabilities and lack of vocabulary behind the ‘la la la’ fingers-in-your-ears of a 3-year-old.”

I see his shoulders begin to shudder and step quickly across the room to grab his waist and spin him around.

His eyes are dancing and the corners of his mouth are curled up.

I wrap my arms around him and kiss him.

Before I dance across the room and out the door, a ball of white fluff pushes past me, slamming me into the door. The wag-wag-wag of the tail slaps my shin for good measure, as she spins around and starts dancing on the floor.

“I love the sound of those dancing paws on the parquet. Carpet dulls the noise too much.”

I grab her front paws and we twirl one another around. Her face is ablaze with expectation and joy. I hold my finger out to her and she sits, more-or-less still. The thump thump thump of her tail and her heavy, expectant panting emit snow clouds of fluff periodically.

I turn my back and hear – or do I feel? – her creeping towards me.

“Uh uh uh!” I look at her sternly until she is still again.

The front door slams and feet patter into the kitchen, towards Dad and hugs. Eyes turn to me.

“It’s our feeding time game,” I laugh. “She sneaks as soon as my back is turned, to see if she can reach the food bowl before I have finished dishing out the meal.”

Tones of teenage-this-is-life-or-death-and-world-changing conversation, as the front door slams open and shut yet again.

“We got our tests back today! And Jenny was wearing a way-too-long-old-fashioned skirt today. It was SOOOO embarrassing!”

“How did you go?”

“I got an A in French! When are we going to France?”