This was never more evident than tonight when you had yourself a little dance party. Since you were tiny (I refrain from using the term "little" because you still are) we've danced and sang with you. I fear - jokingly - that you're beginning to pick up some of my bad habits.
Do my a favor, when you learn to drive and are dancing and singing in the car, keep both eyes open. Ask your mom.
In life you'll quickly figure out what lessons to take from me and what to learn from mom. Trust me, take your dancing skills from her.
When the "Hot Dog Dance" isn't on Mickey, you opt for something a little more risque and mainstream: Robin Thicke's "Blurred Lines." I swear you can name that song in 2 notes. That beat comes on and your arms and hips start going.
The living room, basement, wherever we are at immediately transforms into your dance floor.
I'm glad your mom caught some of it on video. No way will I ever be able to demonstrate this one.
How many years of recitals are in my future?
Keep dancing little one. As the sating goes "Dance like no one is watching."
No comments:
Post a Comment