Dance Fever

It has become quite the routine in our house that, after dinner, we are all sitting around the living room (aka, our entire house) doing various things that it becomes Greta's time to entertain us all with a dance marathon.  Sometimes we carefully select songs, and other times she goes over to the keyboard and chooses one of the pre-recorded songs that came with the keyboard.  Thankfully she knows how to change the songs now, because for the longest time (months, we're talking) she only knew how to turn on the pre-recorded song, and so it would obviously play the very first song.  That song was a lovely elevator-musak rendition of the ever popular (for who and when I still don't know) "How Deep is Your Love".  Let's just leave it at this when I say there are no words to explain how happy I am that now she knows how to change the songs.  

Greta has been able to move through the song choices, and found a new snappy number that she enjoys marching around the house to.  So, if you are walking by on a warm spring day and hear a certain song ringing through our rafters, it's not that we are overly patriotic people, you can be sure it's just Greta marching, dancing, and pushing repeat to the rousing Battle Hymn of the Republic.

You'll be glad I didn't include pictures when you finish reading this.

Coincidentally, after dinner is also a time that George seems to wake up and get a little punchy.  Amid growling and other unpleasantries, George -- who is as 'kind' at 13(ish) as he was when I met him 8 years ago -- enjoys exerting his dominance over his canine brother Putter, who accepts whatever George has to dish out with grace and humility.  So yesterday during dance time, Greta was dancing, Clara was bebopping to the beat and Greta just starts laughing hysterically.  She just laughs and laughs and we look up and of course, there is George "dominating" Putter -- again and again and again (see why photographs just didn't need to be in this edition).  "Mommy" Greta manages to giggle out "George is dancing over Putter!  Look at him dance!"  

After we could stop laughing ourselves, what could we say except "Yup, Greta.  George is one great dancer."  Where's Simon Cowell when you need him?