It's probably a good thing I have boys. If I had a daughter she'd likely stomp her little feet, insist that she was done listening to show tunes and could I please remove the tiara I was forcing her to wear. Not that she'd be a princess. We Doozleberrys are about as far from royal blood as one can get. Not that she'd be a diva. She'd be sure to have a Chargers jersey hanging in her closet as well. But, well, there might be a little bit of a crazy theatre mom in me that my boys are just flat out not going to tolerate. This is for the best--I'm sure.
But those boys sure do love music. At the tender ages of one and "Hi, I'm Garrett. I'm going to turn three again this year because my mom says it's my second annual third birthday," they like themselves some show tunes. And some show choir. And some Journey. And, really, anything with a beat at all.
It probably doesn't help matters that our family is as close to a living musical as I think one can get. Except for the fact that we have five less kids and they don't wear curtains, I'm not always on key, I've never been to a nunnery, and we aren't running from Nazis, we're practically the VonTrapp's. We're known to break into random song quite often--complete with horrible dance moves, music often accompanies us as we clean up after dinner, and just the sound of a CD starting to whirl in the player will bring both my boys running. I often lament the fact that we're not more instrumental around here because I think that every night would be one big jam session.
As little guys, they sure do like to perform. And it sure does warm this theatre major's heart. The following is a little long but you get to witness, first hand, Matthew's mad dancing skills and Garrett's amazing guitar moves. Enjoy