He himself is of the dancing sort, but it is a bladder, not a beat that coaxes his feet to the floor and his hips to the sway. I, myself, was drawn that day by the rhythmic shake of the Lumineer's tambourine.
"Mama, You need to go use the bathroom right now!" He directed upon observance of my movement.
"No, I don't," I countered as left foot stomped the floor and right hand clapped its companion knee.
"Then why are you dancing?" Bewilderment flashed over his countenance. In his mind, the purpose of dance is to ward off impending urination.
It kind of looks like Fred Astaire needs to use the bathroom.
ReplyDeleteAnyways, i love it when you dance.
Would you dance with me?