Matchbox VW bus (purple)

This week's car pretends it isn't freezing and blustery outside. High winds and cold temperatures here in Ohio feel anything but a purple, sunroofed VW bus, so this is my summer mental getaway.

Not that cold weather stops the kids -- not as long as they have the Just Dance games for the Wii. G, now three years old, can go on marathon dance sessions if allowed like some 1950s dance off contestant.

A week ago I allowed G and his brother A to play Just Dance on a Saturday morning as they were both ready to live La Vida Loca (one of their favorites on the game). G was still in his PJs, but I let him play anyway. I watched him dance up a storm but noticed while his legs were going wild his arms never went much higher than his waist, regardless of the dance moves the video game instructed him to do. Odd.

I continued to watch him and it finally hit me.

"G----," are your pajamas too small?"

"Oh yes," he called out, never looking back as he moved to some mean footwork to Rhianna.

He  had outgrown the red, one-piece, footed pajamas he had worn to bed so he was physically unable to raise his arms up high. It was like some type of River Dance training outfit, which actually worked out because it decreased the likelihood of him smacking his brother in the face.

Regardless of the activity or how many times I give instructions, the two of them constantly stand too close to each other when doing anything that requires dangerous arm movements. Always.

Before the cold spell hit, we went for a hike through one of the local Metroparks. While most of the snow had melted, there were areas of ice on the trail, and they both decided they break up any ice they saw -- with sticks.

"I'm helping other hikers so they don't slip," said G, and strangely, I think he was being earnest in his motivations.

Both of them immediately moved together, however, so that sticks began flying inches of each others faces in a strange choreography of near misses. No flinching, no moving, just eye blurring stick movements and intent faces. Numerous times I moved them apart during the hike, and numerous times some type of pre-school gravitational pull brought them back together.

To the untrained eye those sticks might have seemed to be making contact, but nobody ever got smacked. The visual was like some type of comic, well rehersed stage show. 

They do the same thing in Just Dance -- I don't even want to imagine the two of them playing badmitten or lawn darts.

It might not be painful to them, but it sure is to me.