![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Sep. 4th, 2010 12:14 pmWe've arrived a good 20 minutes before the youth all ranks class, Mark, Dae, & I. For a moment, Dae's fascinated by the seniors sparring. Then listless bouncing sets in.
"Dae," Mark stage-whispers, and puts his hands out palm-up. Dae grins and puts his hands palm down on top of Mark's. They stare at eachother. Dae twitches his hands away...back...away... Mark's right hand flips and tries to tap Dae's left--which flies out of range. "Good." Their hands meet again. Mark's left twitches and Dae's fly. Left turns round and taps Dae's right.
"Oh!" Dae laughs, and puts his hands out palm-up. He catches Mark's right on the first try. They laugh.
Slowly the game progresses, feints and taps and reversals. Other kids drift in, some with parents in tow. One by one, they all glance at the seniors sparring...and then drift toward the reflex game.
"Here," I say, hearing Dae start to lose interest. "I want a go." I offer my hands palm up. Dae grins at me. I gaze at him, hold his eyes, don't move. His hands rest on mine. Wait. My right flicks and taps his left. His eyebrows shoot up and his jaw drops.
"Not such a pushover, am I?" I grin.
"Go mama!"
"Thank you. Your turn?"
He feints with his right, feints again, then surprises me by tapping my left with his left.
I laugh! "Nice, kid. Nicely done."
Mark's turn. I watch Dae play. He's getting tired and his eyes are moving before his hands are. He swings for Mark and misses, looks up at Mark, vexed. "You're telegraphing, babe." I say. Dae tilts his head. ? "Your eyes just before you moved showed where you were headed."
Dae exhales, nods, looks directly up at Mark. Holds perfectly still. Then *flick* and Mark's tapped.
"Yes!" Mark cheers, and Dae cheers with him, and I look around.
The other kids waiting for their class to start have perched on the bleacher and are watching silently, like crows at a corn trough. The littlest one with the darkest belt seems to still be processing the concept "telegraphing."
How interesting.
"Dae," Mark stage-whispers, and puts his hands out palm-up. Dae grins and puts his hands palm down on top of Mark's. They stare at eachother. Dae twitches his hands away...back...away... Mark's right hand flips and tries to tap Dae's left--which flies out of range. "Good." Their hands meet again. Mark's left twitches and Dae's fly. Left turns round and taps Dae's right.
"Oh!" Dae laughs, and puts his hands out palm-up. He catches Mark's right on the first try. They laugh.
Slowly the game progresses, feints and taps and reversals. Other kids drift in, some with parents in tow. One by one, they all glance at the seniors sparring...and then drift toward the reflex game.
"Here," I say, hearing Dae start to lose interest. "I want a go." I offer my hands palm up. Dae grins at me. I gaze at him, hold his eyes, don't move. His hands rest on mine. Wait. My right flicks and taps his left. His eyebrows shoot up and his jaw drops.
"Not such a pushover, am I?" I grin.
"Go mama!"
"Thank you. Your turn?"
He feints with his right, feints again, then surprises me by tapping my left with his left.
I laugh! "Nice, kid. Nicely done."
Mark's turn. I watch Dae play. He's getting tired and his eyes are moving before his hands are. He swings for Mark and misses, looks up at Mark, vexed. "You're telegraphing, babe." I say. Dae tilts his head. ? "Your eyes just before you moved showed where you were headed."
Dae exhales, nods, looks directly up at Mark. Holds perfectly still. Then *flick* and Mark's tapped.
"Yes!" Mark cheers, and Dae cheers with him, and I look around.
The other kids waiting for their class to start have perched on the bleacher and are watching silently, like crows at a corn trough. The littlest one with the darkest belt seems to still be processing the concept "telegraphing."
How interesting.
