Dance, dance, dance

I had the most perfect two hours last night. The rest of the night wasn’t bad or anything, but those two hours were about as wonderful as they could have been.

We had the normal dinner time struggle (this kid hates to eat) but the golden two hours was after that.

Michael put on some classic children’s songs as he is picking up the living room from the day’s playing and I am gathering up all the essential bedtime stuff. Miles is stark naked (we are potty training and have found underwear takes too long to get off in these early stages and he’s always shirtless for meals).

Anyway, as we are going about the evening doing all the regular things, my son oblivous to us starts to dance like a maniac. And by dance I mean twirl in a circle, stomping his feet every so often and waving his arms like he’s trying to put out a fire.

Michael and I both,without conversation, stop what we are doing and join him. (We kept our clothes on though!) As songs like “Old MacDonald” blare on Michael’s fancy schmancy sound system we are dancing around like goofballs.

Miles was already grinning while he was dancing mindlessly, but when momma and daddy joined you would have thought we’d given him a train manned by D.J. Lance and all of his “Yo Gabba Gabba” friends.

His laugh was so pure and contagious. So all three of us were dancing, singing and laughing around the living room. At one point, Miles looks down at VanGogh watching us with a little disdain from the comfort of the couch.

“Dance dog-dog? Dance dog-dog?” he repeatedly pleads. Van didn’t cooperate so Miles rejoined the action just in time for the “Hokey Pokey.”

About 30 minutes past bedtime we pick one last song. I was preparing for an onslaught of tears and screams when the music was turned off, but the hours of perfection continued. We dressed for bed and plodded into his room hopping onto my lap so we could read and rock before bed.

He’d already delivered night-night kisses to the dog and Michael, but he needed a little more.

“One more kiss,” Miles sweetly says. I give him another kiss as we gently rock. Then, he pops his head up, “Daddy, Daddy! More kiss daddy.”

Michael comes into the room and kisses Miles again and we have a family hug.

I just don’t think it gets much better than that.

All the tantrums, tears and tussles make that moment worth it.

What’s the moment that gets you through?

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