the little kids in the locker room at the y.

their teachers distract them with impromptu singalong songs when they get
too fidgety. they’re always sitting or standing (both of which involve wriggling)
in single file for one thing or another (to get their swim caps on, to go up to
the gym, to go to the sunshine room, etc.) and percolating into rhyming songs.

once, when cal and i were leaving, the kids were doing their best version of
a straight line against the wall, but things were getting mighty fidgety.
the teacher was trying to get the percolation thing going, but two little boys
in the back were un-defidgetable. they were gently touching their tongues
against each others’ – not the pointy tips, mind you, but the fleshy middles –
and then giggling, electric with what i can only think of as glee.
(not a word i would normally bandy about. nobody’s really “gleeful” anymore, are
they? has anybody been “full of glee” in the last five decades? half-full maybe?)

from the front of the line, the teacher snapped out of song to remind everyone in the
hallway all that we don’t do that, and that in fact, we keep our hands
and our tongues to ourselves. but i’m pretty sure it was too late.
i’m pretty sure they’re not forgetting that feeling.