Lately, the boys and I have been listening to a satellite radio station called "Malt Shop Oldies" when we're home throughout the day. It plays music from the 50's, Atticus particularly seems to enjoy it, and I don't have to worry about the lyrical content. (A lot of the songs they play are about food- seafood and spaghetti and meatballs and such. Why can't they make songs like that now? I like food. I like music. Seems like a winning combination to me.)
One of the songs regularly played is "Willie and the Hand Jive." It's a fun little song, and the boys like trying to do the hand motions in time with the music. Good times all around.
This morning, we went to a bigger, fancier grocery store than the one we usually frequent. I've had a hankering for soup in bread bowls recently, so we were on a quest to find big enough bread...roll... ball... thingies that I could hollow out for supper tonight. Atticus and Caedmon were just excited that they got to ride in a special cart shaped like a car.
So there we are, right around the bakery section in Hy-Vee, I'm looking for bread, and Atticus is quietly singing, "Hand Jive" while doing a vague approximation to the movements.
For some reason, there were what seemed like a lot of bakery employees, five or six of them, all working efficiently. A couple of them noticed my lost look as I muttered, "I don't think we're in Aldi anymore, Toto."
They had both started toward me, when Atticus decided it was time for a dramatic crescendo and belted out, "HAND JOB! HAND JOB! DOIN' THAT HAND JOB!"
Oh, and he was still doing wild, spastic hand motions that looked very little like the actual hand jive.
The young man rounding the edge of the counter stopped in his tracks, and behind the counter, one young lady's hands flew to her mouth, while the other four of them lapsed into silence and stared at us.
"Hand JIVE," I clarified. "He's singing, 'Hand Jive.'"
I waited for the floor to graciously open up and swallow me whole or my face to burst into flames, but instead at that moment I spotted what I was looking for, blindly threw some bread into the cart, gave the giggling employees a sheepish grin, and wheeled our cart around to the check-out as fast as I could.
I like to think of it as our family doing it's part to spread a little joy in our section of the country, rather than my children doing their level best to mortify me in public. Either way, I'm going to declare this a "win."