Just a few minutes ago, Abe was out working on the addition, with the radio tuned to some radio program called "Retro Lunch." Apparently, during the lunch hour, this particular station plays retro pop favorites.
Imagine our delight that much of what is deemed "retro" was popular when we were in high school.
Anyway, I heard Abe whoop giddily, and he cranked up the volume on the radio. I immediately recognized the distinctive bass line of that oldie-but-goodie Young MC classic, "Bust a Move."
So immediately, Abe and I were transported back to our youth, and I hustled out onto the addition to have a little impromptu dance party, with the kids trailing behind me in a scene from "90s pop Pied Piper of Hamelin."
Well, normally, Charis and Judah can bust a move with the best of them. But they're never really seen us strut our stuff.
The result apparently horrified them.
Charis actually stood next to me, tugging on my shirt and softly saying, "No, mama, no." Meanwhile, Judah stood across the room next to Abe, absolutely still and transfixed by the train wreck that was his mother's dancing. We tried to encourage him to groove a little himself, but he was apparently too mortified to try.
And all I'm thinking is, if my dancing affects them this strongly when they are but mere toddlers, imagine the effect it will have when they're teenagers.