My Sunshine girl, we are your parents.
You’re to little right now to know that we spend many evenings in this household dancing to Michael Jackson. Your Dad can’t dance to save his life. Last night he did some weird move were he jumped in crisscross circles around the family room and you and I sort of stared at him like he was insane. I hate to pin your blackself against your whiteself but you get your moves and tush from me. (You’re welcome for both)
His hands shoot straight up into the air and my God he dances to the words and not the beat. But here’s what’s important to remember, no matter how terrible of a dancer your father is he always dances. He never lets his lack of rhythm stop him from dancing in our family room, weddings, or any other public forum. Something for you to keep in mind, no matter how ridiculous he looks- he looks ridiculous for us. And no matter how much he might embarrass you one day with his retro dance moves- he comes home early just to dance with you. He thinks you are awesome, and you are, but you’re more awesome because he’s your Dad.
We are your parents. We are lovers of Michael Jackson, Prince, and Glee knockoffs. We are about love and fun and your overall happiness. Ir is my prayer that you’ll never be afraid to stand up and dance away the hard stuff, celebrate the little stuff, and find sober joy in a good dance off.
