My parents are probably going to be mad I am writing about this, but it is just too funny to not write about.
I came home this evening from a pretty busy day of wedding planning, meetings with friends, and eating way too much sodium soaked Chipotle. Upon entering my parents place I immediately smelled freshly baked cookies. Into the kitchen I go. Knowing they probably weren't gluten free , I walked right by them, and would then wait until everyone was asleep and then continue to eat the whole lot. But my wonderful mother said "They're gluten free!" Lovely of her to think of me, but I think she is forgetting I really need to be fitting in a wedding dress soon. No more baked goods mom! Period. If they're there, I'll eat them. All of them.
I then persistently went downstairs resisting temptation settling for an apple that tasted like wood, and thought it would be a good idea to take a shower. Before I continue I would like to give you a little Hand family history lesson. My parents for the last year or so have been taking a dance lesson at the nearby dance studio. They go about every week, and now my dear father can actually keep a beat. Poor Christoph was forced to go with us one evening while he was here. I told him it has always been my dream of mine to dance with my new husband on our wedding day, but to do it well so could we please learn a little Rumba. He hates to dance, but was surprisingly good, and actually got very serious about it. You set a German's mind on something they don't joke around till they get it. I was the one goofing around embarrassing him with my head bobbling side shifting skip and shuffle.
So now back to this evening. When I first walked through the door I saw that the furniture was arranged for an open floor, and I knew then my parents were going to get their groove on, practicing dance so my dad could show up the instructor this Sunday. I didn't think much of it, seeing as this is a regular thing for them I went on my way, down to the shower. My parents dance nights are usually kept to a slow waltz, or tango, sometimes a little jiving goes on. But pretty low key. Well to my surprise after I got out of the shower, I heard all sorts of jumbling upstairs. Then I heard the music they were listening to and I got this exact picture in my head. Those of you who know my dad, know he is a very huge and beefy man, who if he is not on his blackberry texting the president, he is washing down hot dogs with a "90 grams of protein!" drink, and lifting weights at 4:30am. Well, not today! They were listening to classical music. Loudly. Nut cracker, jolly violin strings and drums blasting to the beat of my fathers prance. I could only imagine what he was doing, but imagining him in a tutu made it much more entertaining. Listening through my mothers hysterical, unstoppable, heart felt laugh I could hear the shuffling feet of my dad, with a jump here, frolic there, a little manly giggle to bring it all together. This continued to go on for a couple minutes. Mom laughing while my dad danced around like a little girl pretending she was a princess. I was laughing so hard, I have not laughed that hard from not even seeing something with my own eyes in a very long time! Later on I asked my mom what they were doing, even though I knew. She said my dad was ballerina dancing. Oh what joy and entertainment my parents bring me. I could seriously write a whole book on their daily activities and interactions. It's so refreshing to see two people so in love, having fun and laughing together even after years of being married.