Monkey and Turtle love to dance. If I put a good song on the Ipod, Monkey will pull on my leg and make grunting noises, resorting to flat out crying if she isn’t picked up for a dancing session. And we’re not talking about a slow dance. There must be bouncing, and twirling, and kicking would be nice, too. Turtle clings for dear life with one hand and flails the other arm wildly during her dancing session, and she loves to be spun around in circles.
Before the girls could even sit up, N would dance with them on Saturday mornings. Cat Stevens, They Might be Giants, Bob Marley. He would dance with one while the other lay watching from her perch on a Boppy, and then switch. On weekday mornings, I would put on the Beatles 1 and dance all around the kitchen, while they laid in the Pack N Play, watching and smiling.
Now, when they wake up from their afternoon nap before I’m ready for them to get up, I dance to a fast song in the nursery to wake myself up. They might be treated to “Grease.” Or “Footloose.” Or one of my favorite pick-me-ups, something I save for those days when I’m really dragging, “Tricky” by Run DMC.
They’ve danced to the Beastie Boys and REM. They’ve suffered through my horrid singing of the entire soundtracks of Annie, The Sound of Music, and The Wizard of Oz. And we’ve listened to the Beatles 1 almost every day since they were born. The first time Monkey faced the Ipod and started shaking her little body to “I Want To Hold Your Hand,” I almost cried. The music may be old, and my singing may sound like a dying cat, but we’re raising a couple of girls who love to throw their heads back and feel the music. And that makes us happy.
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2 comments:
my kind of girls
Before you long, they will be singing along with the music, inserting the words they know, not the true lyrics. No matter what their ears hear, they'll be sure their lyrics are correct. And they will be perfect!
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