Intoxicating Dance

Oh the passionate dance
of a mother in the evening
as you rock and sway
your feverish child
who clings to you with far away eyes
half-open and heavy

Classical music bursts through the darkness
with delicate yearning
and ebullient beauty

How beautiful and terrible
this ballet…
your hands caressing the little one’s back
as you rock and sway
–a living cradle–
an exhausted ark
carried upon the waves
of wakeful nights

And as you dance
you long
for the intoxicating embrace
of sleep
to carry you away like blossoms
floating down a rapid river

Think not of waterfalls
for they come soon enough
dance and dream only of sleep

Dance with me, daughter


“Little one arise,

get up from your corner;

unfold your sulking arms

and dance with me.

If you don’t know which way to go

stand on my feet

I will guide you.

Give me your arms

see my face

I am with you.

Listen for the music of grace

give in to the mystery of my rhythm 

I will guide you.

Don’t refuse to dance 

because you don’t know all the steps.

The music will guide you,

you will see

when you let go.”

“Father God, forgive me

for being afraid

for refusing to dance

with a light heart

and joyful feet.

I know you are leading me 

and yet I resist—

call out in fear when you dip me,

stiffen my arms when they should be supple 

for a twirl—

Let me instead be responsive to your guidance,

open to your plan,

a joyful partner

in this unexpected 

dance of life.”


Quotes from the Peanut Gallery

Here are some quirky quotes from the peanut gallery.


4 year old: “Can you dance like me?”

3 year old: “No, I can dance like myself.”


4 year old: “Hey! The spider I was catching got away. And he didn’t even leave footprints!”

4 year old: “This woodbug is going to be my real pet. I’ll call him Bubsy. Actually, no, Twinkle.”

Potty Training


Me: “You go pee, honey, like a big girl.”

3 year old: “Yeah, I’m a big girl now. I’m going to peep.”

Me: “After your turn I’ll go pee too.”

3 year old: “Yeah, you’re big, too…like a giant, or a mom, or a dad, or a fire worker, or a vampire…actually, no, not a vampire…I was just pretending that you’re big.”


6 year old: “Why is grandpa lying down?”

Me: “He has a sore back…his sciatic nerve is giving him trouble, like I have when I’m pregnant.”

6 year old: “But Grandpa’s not pregnant.”

Me: “Nope!”

4 year old: “That’s cause babies don’t like boys, only mommies.”