Recipe for a Dance Step

"Oh! What about lemon juice?" I heard my seven year old daughter Jordyn suggest to her sister at a mere seven-thirty this morning.

I was quickly awake. Lemon Juice?

"Um.....Girls? What's going on in my kitchen?" I hesitantly asked my daughters as I came down the stairs, not even sure I wanted to know the answer.

"We're making Promenade!" Jordyn announced happily.

"It's really a square dance step," Hannah, my almost ten year old, added. "But we've decided to turn it into a recipe!" and she happily stirred something thick and black in the plastic cup she was holding.

"What's in this......this......Promenade?" I asked with definite hesitation and a bit of queasiness as I watched a black concoction being lifted from Hannah's cup.

"It's yummy!" Hannah replied. "Cinnamon, and honey and margarine. Oh, and mustard juice and ketchup!"

"And, what's the........the black stuff?" I inquired with a wrinkled nose.

"Coffee beans and chocolate syrup!" came the excited response. "I think I'm going to try it on my toast!"

It was all I could do to just leave the room and let them play. Yes, I hate messes. And, true, I thought what they were doing was thoroughly nauseating. Yet, somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered doing similar experiments as a child and finding them quite fascinating.

I've tried over the years to be as laid back as I can where motherhood is concerned. I will never tolerate violence or rude behavior. Yet, messy experimentation is something that I force myself to allow. I think I have a bit of obsessive-compulsiveness that makes me keep my house neat and tidy most of the time. And this total disrespect for cleanliness that my children often demonstrate eats away at my core. Still, deep down, I know that somehow, through all of this (un)scientific behavior, my children are learning and growing. Who am I to stifle them?

So, as I sit here typing away at my computer, orders such as "More vinegar!" echo in the background. And I attempt to remind myself to just breathe and let them be. After all, they are learning. Something. Right?

I console myself in the fact that, during this Promenade fiasco, my girls were actually playing together without screaming or hurting one another. Thus, I suppose one could actually look at this whole charade as a true success............at least as far as sisterly bonding is concerned. Oh, and Jordyn informed me that promenade is good for your skin. So, maybe we've now got a real money-maker on our hands!

I suppose that I am learning everyday, along with my children, how to be and how to exist. I need to let the stress of the mess roll off me and allow my girls to have fun and play together.

Yet, maybe next time they use the word Promenade, they'll actually try taking up dancing...........