Come to the Party

My son came down the stairs wearing an unevenly buttoned dress shirt and a tie. "Would you like to come to my party?" He asked.

He'd turned on the music in his room, his very messy room, his very messy room that you should totally ignore and not judge me for, and the two of them were dancing away. Troy and I did what any normal parents would do and we joined in. We danced like no one was watching and, well, praised the Lord that really, no one was actually watching because we are the worst and second worst dancers in the entire world. I'm bad. Really bad. My husband might be worse. If that's even possible. Unfortunately, our oldest son got our terrible moves. There's hope for the second born but only if he doesn't watch us and find himself influenced.

Welcome to the party.

P.S. I just watched the video and it wasn't that messy. I think most of the stuff wasn't in the shot. All that appears here is a disheveled bed, a stuffed frog, and a stray pair of pajamas.