Kate was skittering around too, trying to figure out some way to annoy her sister, and she decided to play country music on the stereo. She put on this Garth Brooks tape and then I started dancing around because I felt like it, so she stopped me and showed me a little bit of how you do Texas Line Dancing.
Now, I'd seen a little bit of the infomercials advertising the Texas Line Dancing Collection, so I was just stupid enough to think I could actually do this. You step three times forwards with your right foot and then three times backwards, and then you kind of do this triangle thing and bring it up and slap the sole of your boot, and then you kind of turn to one side and do the same thing again.
Kate was dancing around too but I complained it was easier for her to do the quick steps because she was only wearing socks, while I had on hiking boots. So she said, ``Ok, I'll make it fair'' and ran off and got her hiking boots too. She didn't bother to lace them up, just left the tongue sticking out and waving around, but she tucked the laces in so she wouldn't trip on them.
So there were Kate and I, dancing around the kitchen kicking up our heels, me in jeans and a flannel shirt and her, for some reason, wearing a red union suit of long underwear that she thinks makes stylish dinner clothing. And floppy unlaced hiking boots. I don't know why either. We must have looked like two crazy Texans out for a night on the town in our rusty red pick-up with gun-racks and a Confederate sticker on the bumper, yelling "Yeeee-Haaaaaahhh!" and chewing on toothpicks.
Then we all went back in to the dining room to have some kind of dessert made with strawberries and whipped cream and powdered sugar. We finished it off pretty quickly. Heather's aunt and her grandpa were there too, and we sat in astonished amazement, nobody really ready to intervene, as Kate licked the remnants of the powdered sugar off the big earthenware platter. I didn't really believe that she was doing this. Her aunt looked like she thought if she could ignore it, it would go away, and grandpa just kind of sat there nodding knowingly.
Now you have to understand that she wasn't using her hands to hold the platter up and rotate it. She just left it on the table and craned her neck around to get every single last drop of the gooey whipped cream and dragged her tongue in long lazy circles.
I remarked on how animalistic it seemed, and she snorted ``snnk snnk snnk, Mommy's little piggie!!''