I DON’T ever need to leave my house to be entertained.
My kids do that for me.
Almost every week, I am treated to a theatrical or dance display in the comfort of my lounge room.
They spend about an hour choreographing little routines in their room, which basically consists of Ayla instructing Maya on exactly what to do and when.
And heaven forbid if she makes a mistake.
‘‘How hard is it Maya!? It’s one, two, kick, ball, change and spin,’’ Ayla demands.
It takes me right back to my childhood.
When I was in charge of our weekly dance routine and my little sister Signe had to follow my every direction.
I admit I was a bit of a dance Nazi and would make Signe practise for hours before our final performances in front of Mum and Dad.
To the point that 30 years later, Signe and I would be able to blitz our tap dance routine to Diana Ross and the Supremes’ Baby Love because we went over it so many times.
Much to Signe’s disgust.
She wasn’t a dancer, nor wanted to be, but was too terrified of me to do anything about it.
‘‘I’m hungry,’’ she would complain. ‘‘But you ate like five hours ago,’’ I growled back.
Until one day it all got too much.
After one too many shuffle ball changes, my sister snapped.
She vowed never to dance with me again because, and I couldn’t believe my ears at the time, my standards were too high, my hours too long and my stamina too great.
But with Signe gone, so too were my dreams of being a professional dance duo.
So when my baby sister Tara came along, I had another dream.
To transform her into a famous dancer — whether she liked dance or not.
Thankfully she did (although not quite as much as me).
When she was about eight, she was entered into a character solo dance at the Mount Isa Eisteddfod.
I was so determined to win that I rehearsed with her for weeks before the big day.
And when the big day finally arrived, Tara was ready.
I guess it helped that I was backstage mimicking her every move with a seriously crazy Joker-like grin-cum-leer on my face, silently but aggressively prodding her to smile.
Dance mums had nothing on me.
Anyhoo, Tara smashed it (as I knew she would) and when they announced her as the winner I leapt out of my seat clapping and woohooing hysterically.
While Tara sat chatting away to the girl next to her, completely oblivious to the fact she had just won.
‘‘You won, you won!’’ I screamed at her.
‘‘Oh, did I?’’ she replied nonchalantly before strolling up to the stage to collect her award.
So much for turning her into a highly competitive dance champion.
I guess it’s all up to Ayla and Maya now.
Not that I would want to push them into anything.