Hand in hand on the edge of the sand

Quibble and Squeak are holding hands, dancing around in a circle, giggling. Suddenly, they break apart and begin to run from one end of the lounge to the other, one arm outstretched shouting, ‘Superman! Superman!’. Quibble announces that it is time for the Big Ending and they both fall to the ground, legs in the air, waiting for their applause.

I blame myself. My love of Strictly Come Dancing predates both of my children. When the first series aired in 2004 I considered myself somewhat of an expert, having been a member of the Latin American and Ballroom Society at university. I tried to judge the celebrities fairly, as someone who understood a (dangerously) small amount of the technical aspects, but I usually just let myself get carried away by the beauty of the outfits and the magic of the dancing.

This year, for the first time, Quibble is old enough to stay up on a Saturday night to watch the first few dances with me. I tell Stanchion that seeing the scores adding up improves Quibble’s numeracy skills, that the exposure to different styles of music and dancing aids his creativity and self-expression and that it is good for him to see people responding to feedback. And I do believe that, I do. All those things are important… but, well, really, I love seeing him love the same things I do. On Sunday morning, after breakfast, we sit with Squeak at the iPad to show her the best dances. There is commentary from Quibble (who has an excellent memory for the judge’s comments), while Squeak points out all the different bright colours, and, in between the dances, they demonstrate their own unique interpretations of what they have seen. I usually just let myself get carried away by the, ahem, beauty and magic of the moment.

In twelve years of watching Strictly, I’ve never found anyone else who loves watching the dancing in the same way I do – except now I have. I’ve found two little people who like it so much they are currently attempting a mash up of a Waltz, the Superman Paso and what I can only assume is some sort of jazz ending.

“And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon.”
― Edward Lear, The Owl and the Pussycat

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