Bust a Move

I was at home, my day off (every Monday), just me and baby E. We were listening to music, dancing around the kitchen. He was begging me to hold him and dance. I was trying to get him to dance on his own. He used to, but lately wants me to hold him instead. Most of the time I love it. But sometimes, well, he's getting kind of heavy. And, really, he kinda cramps my groove style.

For a second I had one of those moments when you can see yourself from outside of yourself. You know what I mean? I realized, in that brief moment, I totally dance like my mom. As in, I could see her dancing around the kitchen with us (my brother and me), when we were really little. One of those random flashes that you're fairly certain is actually a memory, but there's enough cloudiness that you're not absolutely sure. And then I saw myself, and realized I move just like her. It's funny, particularly since I don't remember the last time I saw her dance at all. You know, we just haven't been in dance-worthy or dance-appropriate situations.

At any rate, we're grooving around, me and my baby E. He is finally busting out his own moves. And they look like neither mine or my mama's. "Hey E, do you have moves like Jagger?" "No, momma, no moves like boogers. Baby E move like Kid!" Cue momma, laughing hysterically. Cue baby E grinning from ear to ear. Cue him really groovin'.

Those boys both have moves. And I gotta say, I hope they got them from their birth parents. 'Cause the ones they could get from me are not so impressive. And we'll not even talk about their Poppa's.


Today's Lesson: There comes a moment when your children realize that you are no longer cool. I don't know when that moment will come, but I am so grateful that it hasn't hit yet.