Happy Mom Dance

Had to share with the world...

It's #1's Senior year in High School and among others of course (psychology, advanced ceramics, film studies, spanish & choir) she's taking a Shakespeare class for which she has to travel to the "other" High School daily. It's finals week.

Let me mention, her Shakespeare teacher is a very creative guy! Three weeks ago they started instruction in sword-fighting because it was a "Shakespearean art". They've routinely done a lot of acting, complete with student directing and scene blocking. i LIKE this guy! For her Shakespeare final she has had to memorize a 1-2 minute long monologue to be presented/acted tomorrow.

Lest you wonder, my sweet #1 is a replica of her mother in style and attitude! The monologue of choice? Kate's from Taming of the Shrew. It's utterly NOT "us". Perfect! She has it entirely memorized and is perfecting her inflections and motions.

The happy dance was done just now when she asked me to go to class with her to meet this wonderful teacher and her classmates and to hear her perform her final presentation! In her words: "It'll be cool. I like showing you off!" Yeah - she knows how to get to her mom. i'm all a-grin. :)

So tomorrow i'll probably embarrass her by sniffing in pride as she says these words with all the venom and prowess i know she possesses:

Fie, fie, unknit that threat'ning unkind brow
And dart not scornful glances from those eyes
To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor.
It blots thy beauty as frosts do bite the meads,
Confounds thy fame as whirlwinds shake fair buds,
And in no sense is meet or amiable.
A woman moved is like a fountain troubled,
Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty,
And while it is so, none so dry or thirsty
Will deign to sip or touch one drop of it.
Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,
Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee
And for thy maintenance; commits his body
To painful labor both by sea and land,
To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,
Whilst thou li'st warm at home, secure and safe;
And craves no other tribute at thy hands
But love, fair looks, and true obedience--
Too little payment for so great a debt.
Such duty as the subject owes the prince,
Even such a woman oweth to her husband;
And when she is froward, peevish, sullen, sour,
And not obedient to his honest will,
What is she but a foul contending rebel
And graceless traitor to her loving lord?
I am ashamed that women are so simple
To offer war where they should kneel for peace,
Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway,
Whey they are bound to serve, love, and obey.
Why are our bodies soft and weak and smooth,
Unapt to toil and trouble in the world,
But that our soft conditions and our hearts
Should well agree with our external parts?
Come, come, you froward and unable worms,
My mind hath been as big as one of yours,
My heart as great, my reason haply more,
To bandy word for word and frown for frown.
But now I see our lances are but straws,
Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare,
That seeming to be most which we indeed least are.
Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot,
And place your hands below your husband's foot,
In token of which duty, if he please,
My hand is ready, may it do him ease.