Our family, sans Bray, loves to dance. When the trio were just babies, I’d put on the CD player and dance around the play room with them in my arms. They now dance to everything. Music from CDs, their toddler guitars, little pre-recorded tunes on drums and maracas, dancing in the funniest little ways you’ve ever seen. The little lady is more of a swayer and has been known to throw her arm up in the air as if to say “heeeeey-hooooo-heeeeey-hooooo….” The boys tend to bounce up and down to the music by bending their knees back and forth – though recently they’ve begun to imitate their sister more.
This week, she’s started dancing upon my arrival at home. It. Is. The. Best. Thing. Ever. Our game room is completely glassed in so they can see my car pull into the driveway. As I exit the car, and start waving at them through the windows, she starts to dance. She dances me in the door. There’s no music playing – she’s just dancing because I’m home. She then runs to me and throws her arms around me, as do the boys, and it’s pell-mell, down we go, save the jewelry if I can.
I have to tell you, you can have the crappiest day of your life, but when you arrive home to a toddler dancing with sheer glee at your return and it all turns around. Life is bliss.
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