Wednesday, November 01, 2006

My baby can dance

My baby can dance. Put some music on, and he dances as well as the proverbial white guy. He's a quarter white and a quarter size of the average white guy. He gets up and shakes his booty. He shuffles and sways to the rhythm...sorta.He holds your hands and smiles into your eyes. He likes music with a smooth steady beat. Sometimes he stamps his feet. He doesn't like it too fast or too slow. He smacks me if I put the wrong music on. Disco is good. Hiphop, but not Death Cab for Cutie.

He also shakes his head a lot at random moments and smiles at you. You have to shake your head back. He doesn't say anything, but maybe that's because I haven't given him a microphone.

You can sing him out of almost any bout of crying. My daughter knocks him down...accidentally she says. She also says, "He's not a baby anymore. He's a toddler." But I mean baby like the rock and roll term, okay? She sings "You are my sunshine" to him. He stops crying. Works everytime.

Well, except when it comes to pants and shoes. Most of his temper tantrum involve pants. He screams and yanks off the wrong pants. He's made it very clear you have to wear the right pair of pants. Baggy blue nylon pants are his pants of choice. He doesn't care about other clothing, but pants matter. He prefers them hanging low like any teenager.

Shoes are important too with a good bright color like pink. Not girly shoes, mind, but Vans. He picked them out at the shoe store. Too bad they weren't his size. He cried and cried. He insisted on trying them on anyway and clomping about in them.

On our latest shopping expedition, he led us straight into Pac Sun, most definitely a store for teens. I'm totally serious. I thought sure, why not. We're still in the 'walking is very novel' phase. He tugged onto a t-shirt. I told him he was too young, but he wouldn't listen. He lay down, and cried. We had to carry him out. Bemused teenagers watched us go.

Now I don't let him watch MTV, but of course the media controls everything. So maybe he has dreams of being on MTV as the next toddler star. They start younger and younger these days.

My mom tells me I sang songs at age eighteen months. I rode on my dad's back and sang songs to him as they hiked across the world. I also held my hairbrush as a microphone and danced in front of the tv to "Top of the Pops" a Top 40 show in England. I also told my mom I was going to grow up and be a star. Sadly for the world, I decided not to pursue a career in music. But who am I to crush my baby's boy dream? I'm signing him up for a Music Together class. We all have to start somewhere.

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