I don’t know which is cuter. Sissy and her friends having the guts to perform Abba’s “Dancing Queen” in their school’s talent show or Piper offering to join the group because one of the Dancing Queens fell ill at the last moment. Piper knows all the moves. She’s been the mascot at each rehearsal. She slaughters the lyrics, of course, but it’s lip syncing anyway. Surely no one will notice: Friday night and the lights are slow…looking out for a place for my toes…you can dance…you can drive…having the time with your wife…
Sissy’s been wearing striped hot pink gloves, the central feature of the costume, around the house for weeks. She even lets Piper try them on. It’s intoxicating.
Piper declared herself ready for the stage. “I can do it, Sissy. I can. I know how.” And Sissy would have let her.
“But you don’t go to my school, Piper. Only kids at my school can be in the talent show.”
Alas, the fallen Dancing Queen rallied in the final hour and joined her friends. The show was a success. The Queens were a hit with their neon gloves and matching belts. Piper was a stage mom from the audience, mouthing the words and performing the choreography from my lap.
As we were walking home Sissy floated the idea that next year could be Piper’s year. They’ll be in school together for the first time. “We could do an act together! Should we sing? Dance? Piper is quite the comedian. Maybe we should do a skit.”
Who knows? They’ll be together. That’s what matters. With or without neon gloves.