Monday evening, Little Monkey was being particularly fussy. He is full blown teething and anything seems to set him off. I'd worked all day, so he wanted me to hold him and I wanted to hold him back! I placed him in his high chair to finish up some left over dishes and he was not happy with me. He grunted and growled, I gave him ice cubes and a squeaky book. When I finished the last dish, I scooped him up, turned on Pandora, and danced with him. He grinned at me as we twirled around and around. I bounced him up and down then held him close when a slow song began to play.
As a teen, I attended many dances. I went to 3 proms, 4 battalion balls, and multiple middle school dances all of them with awkward, sweaty boys. The excitement of getting dressed up, full hair, tons of night time makeup, "beauty is pain" my mother would say over and over. Picking out the dress, shoes, and a boy bringing flowers. Pictures, then driving up to the gate in a fancy car. All of it was exciting!
None of those memories could ever compare to dancing in gym shorts and a baggy t-shirt, barefoot in my kitchen, hair in a messy pony tail dancing cheek to cheek with my son.