Small Slice

This morning, I popped one of my walking DVDs in and started to get my walk on.  My four-year old was playing at noggin.com, so I figured I'd be able to get through most of the workout before she showed up wanting attention. 

Nope. 

This time, however, instead of demanding that I turn it off and play with her, she decided to walk along with me.  She marched in place gamely, and did the kicks.  When it came to the double side-steps, though, she got sort of lost.  She paced back and forth behind me, staying clear of my feet, but just barely.  Then came the clapping part. 

There is nothing quite as gooby as clapping along with an exercise DVD, but I figured what the hell, and swung my arms out to the sides and then back to the center of my chest with a big clapping motion like the gals on the TV.  I heard my toddler tee-heeing behind me and I turned around to find her bent over, hand covering her mouth, giggling uncontrollably.

"What?" I asked her.  "Look, I KNOW, okay.  I'm just doing the exercise like I'm supposed to."  She dropped to her knees and did a remarkably good impression of a seal, clapping its flippers and waiting for a fish.

"You look like a seal!"  she giggled.  "Arf!  Arf arf arf!"

My center-clasping bra chose that moment to unhinge itself, leaving my boobs a-bouncing along to the rhythm of my hand clapping.

"Arf!"  I said.  "Arf arf arf."  Hey, at least she didn't call me a whale.