After a few hours of fishing yesterday Brantley, Lucas and I headed home tired and dirty. Our first order of business was, as always- a tick check. Lucas was used to the drill and readied himself by starting the process without even having to be told.
Strip down. Arms up. Turn around. Spread your cheeks.
However, when we got to the last part Lucas turned back and said with hesitation, “Mom, you said twerking was against the law. I don’t want to go to jail.”
I know what you’re thinking. Hang on. I can explain.
Flashback to three days earlier when Lucas walked into the kitchen and announced, “Dad just showed me how to twerk.”
Brantley spoke up, “No. No. See. No. That’s not how it happened. He thought he knew what twerking was and in an effort to educate him, I showed him a video on YouTube of someone properly twerking.”
“Properly? That’s not ok,” I said. “What on earth? What kind of video did you let him watch?”
“It was just an instructional video. They were wearing pants. I swear. It was totally wholesome and I guarantee it was more benign than what he thought twerking really was.”
I was intrigued. “What did he think it was?”
Brantley rubbed his face. “It’s hard to describe. Lucas, show your Mom what you thought twerking was.”
I immediately regretted my question.
“Ok. Stop! That’s worse! That’s WAY worse! Lucas, where on earth? Never mind. Listen, don’t ever do that again, ok?.”
I could tell the wheels were turning in his seven-year-old brain. “Don’t do which one? The one in the video, or the other one?”
“Don’t do either. Ok. Got it?”
“Becaaaaause it is against the law.”
“What about if I do it in private?” he asked.
“Still illegal in most states.”
Lawd, help me.