Dear, dear, dear.
Last night we met another young family at Celebration in the Oaks – a Christmas carnival set up in City Park of New Orleans. Jack and his little friend Alden were both thrilled – they ran all over the park, from light display to light display, pointing and gabbling in their baby words. The park is large, and there were laser light shows and booths and carnival rides and things all over it. In one grassy, hedged in area, Christmas carols played loudly and twinkle lights "danced" to the tune. The beat took over my son’s body, and all forward progress ceased. Feet planted in that spot, he bounced and wiggled and jiggled and jounced, brow furrowed, hands waving. He can’t control himself around a good rhythm, he’s just gotta dance. He kept reaching up to hold the other mother’s hand – she was his favorite dance partner. Patrick and I caught one another’s eyes and laughed, and I thought briefly of the joy of being a two-parent household – there is always one other person who I know will find our child’s shenanigans as delightful and impressive as I do. To other people, he was just a silly little boy wiggling his bootie – to us, he is the height of entertainment. People joke that one day he’ll be a football player because of his size, but I can’t help but wonder if he’ll be in a Stomp-type musical, or a drum line, or even ballet (big lumbering toddlers can grow into graceful ballet dancers, I’m sure of it!)
It’s time to go do some reading, if my preggo self doesn’t fall asleep on the keyboard. Early afternoon = my sleepy time.