OddThinking

Being a single mum is tough – probably tougher than anything I could handle. So no-one objected when my coworker, Sandra, brought her young daughter, Madeline, into work with her one day. Madeline, aged about 7 (or so) brought her new toy – a hula hoop. Sandra called for a department-wide hula-hooping competition.

I had tried hula-hooping a couple of times before, with varying levels of success. I was disappointed that Mick was the only other person, apart from me, to step up and take on Madeline.

I hate to be so brutal about the performance of a young child, but Madeline was crap at hula-hooping. She was proud to get about three lousy, unsteady revolutions. It was only that Mick and I were crappier that enabled her to win the competition.

I mentioned my disappointing performance to my friend Lauri, an experienced hula-hoop performer. I quickly learnt that I had been set-up and ripped off. A child’s hula hoop is small and light – a larger, heavier hula-hoop would have been more suitable for us men who were twice Madeline’s height. Lauri kindly donated a hoop and some lessons to get me started on my new life goal; to secretly learn to hula, to challenge Madeline to a re-match, and to make a 7-year old girl cry.

Unfortunately, while I was working to fill this gap in my life, Mick was working on his own secret plan.

While I was still perfecting the step-through kick-up to an overhead hand-twirl, Mick snared Sandra and they eloped to New Zealand with Madeline – and hula hoop – in tow.

Despite my practice, despite my attendance at hula-hooping workshops, I never did manage to make a 7-year old girl cry.