The Lutwidge.nl Stories Curation Service

Hi! My name is Carla Lutwidge, aka Fatbit-ch (although I’m not fat LOL). I live in the Netherlands where I teach gymnastics. My girls wanted to see me on social media so here I am!

Elodie and Siobhan were two best friends who loved to dance. Every weekend, they would meet at Elodie’s house and put on their favorite outfits. Elodie always danced barefoot, her fanny pack bouncing around her waist as she spun and twirled. Siobhan, on the other hand, wore her bright pink crocs and a fluffy pink skirt, which swished and twirled as she danced.

The two girls would create silly routines to their favorite songs, jumping around, giggling, and pretending they were in a dance competition. Elodie loved how free her feet felt without shoes, tapping to the beat of the music. Siobhan loved the sound her crocs made as she danced, like little musical notes with every step.

One afternoon, as they danced to a new song, Siobhan slipped and almost fell. But Elodie quickly grabbed her hand, and they both laughed so hard they could hardly breathe.

“Let’s try that move again!” Elodie giggled.

Together, they practiced their new routine, laughing through every mistake. Dancing wasn’t about being perfect—it was about having fun, especially when they were together. Elodie in her fanny pack and Siobhan in her pink crocs knew they would always dance with joy, side by side.

Eloise and Maddie were the best of friends, always laughing and having fun together. They both loved to dance, and every Saturday afternoon, they would put on their favorite halter tops and jean shorts. It was their special outfit for dancing in Eloise’s parents’ room, which had a big mirror where they could watch themselves move.

The room was their stage, and the music always made them feel like they were on an adventure. Maddie would twirl and jump, pretending to be a rock star, while Eloise would shimmy and groove, pretending to lead a dance crew. They would make up their own routines, sometimes fast and wild, other times slow and graceful. They’d laugh when they missed a step or accidentally bumped into each other. But no matter what, they always cheered each other on.

“Let’s do the routine again!” Maddie would say, her face glowing with excitement. Eloise would nod, adjusting her halter top, ready for another round.

Dancing in the room with Maddie made Eloise feel like nothing else mattered. Their friendship was as strong as their dance moves, and every beat of the music brought them closer together.

Maeve was a lively nine-year-old girl who loved to dance. Every day after school, she would put on her favorite blue shirt and comfy shorts. Her daddy would sit in his favorite chair, smiling as he watched her spin, jump, and twirl around the living room.

Maeve loved dancing for her daddy because he always clapped and cheered. “You’re the best dancer, Maeve!” he’d say, his eyes sparkling with pride. The music would play, and Maeve would let her feet move freely to the rhythm. She imagined she was a ballerina, a superhero, or even a wild animal, all in the same dance!

One sunny afternoon, Maeve decided to put on her blue shirt and shorts for a special surprise. She had practiced all week for her daddy’s birthday. When the music began, Maeve danced with all her heart, jumping higher than ever and spinning like a whirlwind. Her daddy’s face lit up with joy. “That was the best dance ever, Maeve!” he exclaimed, giving her a big hug.

Maeve smiled, feeling proud. No matter what, her daddy would always be her biggest fan, and her blue shirt and shorts were the perfect outfit for dancing from the heart.

Lucy was nine years old and in fourth grade. Every afternoon, Lucy would put on her gray clogs with the soft, worn straps, and her favorite Rolling Stones t-shirt, the one with the big, colorful lips on it. She didn’t care that it was just a plain t-shirt—she felt like a rockstar whenever she wore it. Outside her house, the street was quiet, the sun low in the sky, casting a warm glow across the pavement.

Lucy loved to dance in the street. She’d spin in circles, her clogs clicking on the ground, tapping out a rhythm that only she could hear. She imagined she was on a stage, with the whole world watching. Cars would pass by, their drivers slowing down to watch her twirl, some even waving.

Lucy didn’t care about looking perfect. She danced because it made her happy. The sound of her gray clogs on the road became her favorite music, and she moved with the beat of her heart. Sometimes, a neighbor would join her for a little while, laughing and clapping to her steps.

As the sun began to set, Lucy smiled, knowing she had shared a little piece of joy with the world that day.

Ella was ten years old and in fifth grade. Every Saturday, after breakfast, Ella would rush outside to her back porch, ready for her favorite thing—dancing in the sunshine! She didn’t mind if it was hot, and she certainly didn’t care about matching clothes. Today, she wore her bright pink bikini and mismatched sandals—one blue, one pink—because they were fun and made her feel special.

As her dad fired up the barbecue, the smell of sizzling burgers filled the air. Ella loved the way the music in her head made her feet move to the beat. She twirled and stomped on the porch, her sandals clicking against the floor, and her laughter ringing through the yard.

Her dad smiled from the grill, watching her dance with joy. He knew Ella’s dancing wasn’t about being perfect—it was about having fun. Sometimes, he’d clap along to her rhythm, and she’d spin even faster. The sun warmed her face, and the sound of sizzling burgers mixed with the soft tap of her sandals.

Neighbors passing by would wave, seeing her carefree dancing. Ella didn’t care what anyone thought. She was just happy being herself—dancing in her pink bikini, mismatched sandals, and the happiness of a sunny Saturday afternoon.

Mia was eight years old and in third grade. Mia loved her phone. It wasn’t the newest, but it was hers, and that made it special. Every afternoon, she’d plop down on the soft rug in the living room, barefoot and cozy, her favorite bright red snowman t-shirt on, with the big snowman on the front wearing a silly scarf. The snowman made her smile, even in the warm weather, and she felt like a winter wonderland in the middle of summer.

Mia loved to show off her phone, not because it was fancy, but because it had all the pictures and apps she loved. She’d scroll through her photo albums, showing her family funny pictures of her dog, her drawings, and her adventures at the park. “Look at this!” she’d say excitedly, holding up her phone as she stood on the couch, her toes wiggling in the air.

Her family would laugh, impressed by her excitement. Her dad would peek over her shoulder to see the new game she was playing, and her mom would clap when Mia showed her a funny video.

Mia wasn’t just showing off her phone—she was sharing a piece of her world, making the living room feel like her very own stage.

Maya was eleven years old and in fifth grade. Every afternoon, Maya loved to slip into her favorite short yellow dress. It was bright and happy, just like her! She’d spin around in front of the mirror, watching the dress twirl with her. Then, with a big smile on her face, she’d run outside to the driveway of her apartment building, barefoot and ready to dance.

The cars were parked in neat rows, but Maya didn’t mind. She’d dance right in front of them, her feet tapping on the warm pavement as she swirled and spun, her dress fluttering in the breeze. She imagined the driveway was her stage, and the cars were her audience. Sometimes, she’d even pretend she was a famous dancer, her moves graceful and lively.

People walking by would stop and smile, waving at Maya as she danced. Some would clap, and others would cheer her on. Maya didn’t care who was watching—she was having too much fun!

The music in her head made her feel free and full of joy. Maya loved dancing in her yellow dress because it made her feel like she could light up the whole world, even in the middle of her quiet apartment driveway.