Tonight, I was driving along in the Swagger Wagon with five young teens. We'd had dinner at Benihana and were headed home to continue C's birthday revelry when it happened. Bust A Move started to play.
I turned to C and asked in a hushed tone, "May I dance?"
C replied without hesitating, "Yes."
Then, as I started to raise my hands in the air like I just don't care, she appended, "just keep your hands on the wheel!"
And car dance I did, while keeping my hands at ten and two. How many other 14 year olds would give their Mom permission to literally bust a move in front of their friends? She's the coolest. Me, not so much.
Speaking of dancing, I am happy to report that I have sore knees from the daily dancing. Three days of dancing for just five minutes each time (3x5=15) and my knees are shot. You can make me suffer, Lent, but you can't make me stop.