Monday, March 9, 2009
Diana has a wide array of children’s music CD’s for Elijah to rock out to. Most of them are actually quite cool and not mind numbing or banana phone filled. But almost all of them were supplied by her ex-boyfriend. I refuse to listen to them out of principle. Because I am petty and small.
So this weekend I pulled out some old Beatles CD’s and turned the stereo up. Elijah immediately toddled over and announced his intention to get down and or get funky.
I’ve blogged before about his hilarious dance routines. But lately Eli demands a dance partner. I was only happy to oblige. Let me try to explain his idea of dancing with his dada.
After saying, “Dance! Dance!,” Eli will ask to be scooped up in my arms. But this is no tango. Eli uses his arms and legs to launch himself away from my body to the beat of the music. It takes all of my strength to keep him from shooting across the living room at collarbone breaking speed.
As if this weren’t enough, Grover becomes very agitated at any dancing. I can’t tell if he really loves dancing or really hates it. But he will leap on me/Elijah and gently bite my arms while humping ferociously.
Now, imagine you are our neighbors across the street or a passerby innocently walking their dog. And you happen to peer into our large front window. You’d see a baby trying to squirt out of a grown man’s arms all while being attacked by a giant black bear.
The other night an Evanston police car spent several hours parked in front of our house.
Today’s photo is not of the incident. It’s a nice, non leaping from my arms slash dog humping picture of me and Eli and Finn. But you can almost make out the squad car in front of the house.