The other night my husband came home and said “I heard that Cups song on the radio on the way home. We should watch Pitch Perfect. Right now.” Of course I agreed, because I’m a sucker for cheesy singing and dancing in almost any form. And then he just CASUALLY mentions “I can do that, you know.”

Me: “What? You can do what?”

E: “The cups thing. It’s not hard.”

Me: “It looks hard to me. How could you possibly know how to do that?”

E: “Church camp.”

(If you went to church camp, you know that’s a totally reasonable explanation for all sorts of things. Why are you so good at poker? Where did you get all those macrame friendship bracelets? Why are you so good at ping pong? Where did you learn to shoot a .22 rifle? Why is “Books of the Bible” your favorite category on Jeopardy? Why do you know how to rappel off  a mountain? Why can you make macaroni salad for 200? Why does the smell of mulch make you break into weirdly Jesus-focused marching cadence chants? CHURCH. CAMP.)

Me: “To me, it just looks like a bunch of people snapping and throwing around a cup.”

E: “There’s no snapping. Why would there be snapping? It’s like line dancing with your hands.”

Me: “Oh well THAT makes it sound cooler.”

E: “You’re supposed pass the cup in a circle. Here, I’ll show you.”

And then I learned how to do the Cups song, exactly one million years late. Everyone is over the cups song. Maybe I need to apply for a job at church camp.