The dynamic duo

Ed Smith
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I don’t know if there are words to describe them or not. If such words do exist in the English language, I’m aware that I don’t have the skills to put those words together so that they paint a truly representative picture of these two, either in motion or at rest.

Actually, I have never seen them at rest so that’s a moot point. There is a law of physics which says that a body at rest tends to stay at rest. I think these two must be the exception to that rule. I know that they must rest when they sleep, but the moment of awakening is also the exact moment when they erupt into motion.

Do two bodies in motion tend to stay in motion? These two do, absolutely and without pause. Every part of their bodies: hands, feet, knees, backsides, heads, mouths, tongues — especially tongues.

Of whom do I speak?

A granddaughter, and the close friend of a granddaughter.

Both are 14 years of age. Both give the lie to the theory that nothing moves faster than the speed of light. When they start to talk and gesticulate, both sound and motion is nothing but a blur. When they are talking and gesticulating together at the same time, the blur is only a blur, if you know what I mean. Clearly you cannot.

I’ve never had the opportunity to study physics, not in high school or university. Consequently, my understanding of the physical universe is rather limited. I do know, however, that there is no such thing as a “solid” object.

That seemingly hard tabletop is actually comprised of tiny little molecules, not seen by the naked eye, which are bouncing around and into each other like countless millions of ping-pong balls gone totally demented. The faster they move, the hotter the object in question. The iron on the top of the stove when the fire is lit is literally teeming with those little molecules flying around and bouncing off each other.

It’s something like the bodies on the dance floor at a teenage dance when the music goes ballistic.

The activity inside a piece of ice, on the other hand, is relatively slow-moving, but still happening. It’s something like the slow dance toward the end of the evening at a teenage dance.

There is an interesting contradiction in this scientific principle when it is applied to the human condition. As a school administrator often charged with supervising high school dances, it seemed to me the slower these bodies moved on the dance floor, the hotter they became.

This is an excellent example of how hormones can screw up the most basic and fundamental of scientific principles. It also shows how little one can depend on science to guide us in the area of teenage behaviours.

On the other hand, perhaps it has more to do with the vagaries of the English language and how that language can be manipulated. For example, a slang term for jewelry is “ice.” A slang term for stolen items is that they’re “hot.” If jewelry were to be stolen, therefore, one could say that the ice is hot.

Right. Enough of that.

The other night we were having a relatively peaceful supper in the kitchen of Daughter No. 2. Supper was a large bowl of moose soup, something I usually don’t like. But as I said to her husband after I experienced the first tender mouthful of his kill, I hope he remembered to shut the stable door after he shot the animal.

The moose meat is just excellent. As my father would have said, “That’s some moose meat, my son. Tastes just like the beef off the cow!”

I was halfway through my bowl when a nuclear explosion hit the porch. There was a high-decibel babble of high-pitched voices and I expected that the girl guides had just been let out and had been invited for moose soup. Either that or someone had thrown someone else a baby shower and they were all invited to daughter’s house for coffee.

No one in daughter’s family seemed perturbed by this. Then the door burst open.

If you remember the Bugs Bunny cartoons on Saturday mornings, which usually included the Tasmanian Devil, then you have an idea what happened next.

Two 14 year-old teenage girls — granddaughter and best buddy — exploded into the room like whirling dervishes. Perhaps you think “exploded” is too strong a word. Have you seen what happens when BBQ fuel is poured on hot barbecue coals? Or when gasoline is thrown on an open fire? “Exploded” is the right term.

They were talking, but they might as well have been speaking Outer Mongolian. If I had known sign language, I would’ve had a better chance of understanding them.

Understand this would have been the sign language of the fellow on the deck of the aircraft carrier with his signal flags trying to land fighter jets on the carrier deck. Then you speed him up five times and you get an idea of the hand and arm action as these two young souls “conversed.”

Son and I simply stared at this apparition, not quite believing our eyes or our ears.

“I wonder what they’re talking about,” Son said, which surprised me. As the uncle of one of them, he’s only one generation removed. If he couldn’t understand them …

“I know,” I said.

The two minor tornadoes stopped in mid-action.

“You?” asked one. “No you don’t,” said the other.

“Boys,” I said briefly.

The two girls looked at each other with expressions that said, “How’d he know that?”

Educated guess.

I hasten to point out that these two girls are cute as buttons, with great personalities, and are an absolute delight to be around. We’re exposed to their high energy antics fairly often.

To think I should be so fortunate at this stage of my life!

Ed Smith is an author who lives in Springdale.

His email address is

Geographic location: Springdale.His

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