Last week, once the Puke ended and before Justin came home from Alaska, the kids and I would get home from work/school and I’d
pour a bowl of Cheerios start dinner, feed Cooper, then Gavin and I would eat. Meanwhile, I’d have the radio turned onto 94.7 The Globe…it has a nice range of music styles on it and good for bopping around the kitchen. Keeps the kids entertained and not focused on their hunger, and I can pretend to be the best semi-sober singer/dancer in the world. If Gavin’s being a particularly pillish stinker, he’ll holler things like "no zing-ing! no daaaan-sing!" I usually ignore him and keep doing what I’m doing until he flips his lid (we’ve already established that I feed my kids junk food and pump them full of TV; purposely irritating shouldn’t be a surprise).
Well, this particular night, The Donnas song, Dancing With Myself was playing and I was singing along and doing my best British faux-punk dance while setting dinner on the table. As usual, Gavin got annoyed with me.
- G: Mommy, ‘top daaan-sing!
- M: Come on, Buddy…don’t you want to dance with me? (singing) oh-oh-oh-oh
- G: Noooooo!
- M: Fine…I’m okay with that (singing and dancing again) cuz I’m-a-just-a dancin’ wi’ my-sel-lf oh-oh-oh-oh!
Gavin takes one look at me and starts laughing. And I start laughing because I literally saw the lightbulb turn on over his head when he realized what I was singing at him was the words to the song playing on the radio. I think he was also laughing at my ridiculous dancing skillz.
And to think, that’s how I
ensnared trapped attracted his father in the first place.
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