She: Did you hear about our child’s latest athletic conquest?
Z: He finally beat his video game? Sweet! I knew he had the right stuff.
She: Close, but equally impressive. He was just one second away from the La Colina Junior High School record in the 25-meter crab walk.
Z: No way! Get out of town! That’s awesome!
She: You sound oddly pleased.
Z: I am. It amuses me, because I, too, was a world-class crab walker.
She: Why does that not surprise me? Is this back when you were in peak athletic shape and winning Plastic Man competitions?
Z: Sixth grade. I dominated the crab walk. I remember the race clearly, because I lapped Shirley T. and could almost beat Naomi F. even when she was running. I took the gold at Cathedral Oaks Elementary School.
She: You remember a crab walk race from sixth grade? You barely even remember my name.
Z: Some things are more important than that, Lisa.
She: You must have been a crab walk god.
Z: I was. To the extent that I was angry throughout most of junior high school because they didn’t have the crab walk anymore. It was all running and throwing and hoisting.
She: No wonder you’re always so crabby. They never recognized your true athletic talent.
Z: Never. If the crab walk had been a part of the colored-shorts program back then, I would have been in gold shorts for three years straight. I coulda been a contender.
She: I’m glad you’re not bitter about that.
Z: Instead of a bum, which is what I am. I can’t remember the last time I crab walked.
She: Maybe you can go on the senior crab walk tour.
Z: How cool would that be?
She: You don’t want to know. Please tell me this isn’t going to be the peak of our boy’s athletic career.
Z: There’s no shame in that. Crab walking has a long and noble history.
She: No, it doesn’t.
Z: Besides, he does plenty of other things. He’s been on 7,000 different teams already. I wasn’t on my first and last sports team until 10th grade.
She: True, he actually likes team sports. But there’s still something slightly worrisome about the fact that you both excel at the same nonsport.
Z: Nonsport? Don’t be dissing the walk of champions. You’re in my house now, and I will get all crustacean up in your grille.
She: Oh-kay. What I meant to say was, what makes for a good crab walker?
Z: Hopefully it doesn’t have to do with how turned out I was. My child-bearing hips are useful, but not every guy finds that a big plus.
She: I don’t think that’s it.
Z: It could be a strength-to-weight ratio thing. He’s sinewy, but only weighs 12 pounds. That was basically me in the sixth grade.
She: It may have to do with coordination. Moving your hands and feet in concert like that takes some serious dexterity.
Z: You’re just impressed by anyone who doesn’t bump into walls.
She: That wall moved! I swear it did.
Z: I’m guessing it was his strict exercise and training regimen. Lots of lobster rolls and shrimp dips.
She: Let’s just hope that even if he inherited his crab walking skills from you, that the punning gene skips a generation.
Z: That hurts, Lisa.
She: Yes, dear.
— Tell She and Z what you think by emailing .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address). Click here for previous She Said, Z Said columns. Follow Leslie Dinaberg on Twitter.
(MelissaSelf247 video / YouTube)
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