Oh he goes whirling, whirling, down the white water...

Justin's twirling around this morning before ballet class, singing a little song to himself. At one point he sings that he's on the black team because he has black leotards, and on the white team because he has white ballet shoes.

"Your son says he's playing for both teams," I tell Chris.

"Great. More options that way," he answers.

And Justin continues to dance. And as I'm watching him I'm thinking it's so great that he can do this so unselfconsciously at this age, but it's inevitable that some day he'll say something at school about ballet, and get teased for it unmercifully. Then again... he's pretty physically imposing, for a little guy...

So I mention this to Chris. "You know, it wouldn't surprise me at all if Justin got teased at school about ballet. Once. I picture Justin being like that male nursing student at Queen's, remember that guy who looked like a football player? You could just picture some drunk engineer giving him flack and the nursing student totally flattening him. And then, to add insult to injury, saying something like, 'Lemme get you an ice-pack for that.'"

Chris laughed and said, "Yeah, I remember that guy. A lot of us really admired him, actually. I mean, hey, spending all day, every day surrounded by women... that's gotta hurt."