One Sunday morning, the Pumpkin was running around the living room, while my husband and I lay in our pajamas on the couch contemplating what form of idleness our day would entail. We noticed that the key ring, a favored toy of our son, had taken a new position; that is, he no longer felt it adequate to hold them in his hand. He wanted to grip them in his eight teeth while gesturing dramatically.
Notice the knee bends here. This is the beginning of his new dance move, which is like a grand plie. He does this to any sort of music, and it looks particularly out of place when performed with anything modern. Imagine a ballerina dancing to hip-hop. A twenty-nine inch ballerina. With a diaper on. Shortly after this picture was taken, he launched himself at me, intending to land in my arms I think.
He didn’t quite make it.
But, since he is experienced in the ways of tumbling, he bounced right back up and continued his previous activities.
If there is something in life better than this, I don’t know what it is.