If Earth were heaven
My two-year-old, Littler J, really likes to dance.
If he hears more than a couple of notes of any tune, he turns to me and asks, “Wanna dance wif me?!”
He just now busted moves with his toy pig, which made me smile as I remembered a few minutes from last night.
“Final countdown!” shouted my seven-year-old, Li’l D, as he played with Baymax, a Captain America shield, and a motorcycle.
“Final countdown,” I sang back.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“It’s an … old … song. Here, let me play it for you.”
I played the song, which he found highly unimpressive.
Autoplay moved to “Eye of the Tiger” next. (Of course it did.) Strangely, Littler barely seemed to notice.
But then? Then “Living on a Prayer” came on. Littler’s face lit up and he called, “Wanna dance wif me?!”
We bounced around the living room hand in hand until the last minute of the song, when my husband took over as Littler’s dance partner.
I surveyed the two for a moment, smiling at the wonderful, silly scene before me.
Do I wanna dance wif my boys? Why, if Earth were heaven,
I’d spend every second doing just that.