Dancing

A couple of nights ago Mama and I loaded up you kiddos and headed out to an international potluck. It's great way for us to learn how to love people of different cultures together. Amelia was her usual chill self. But big brother...

Asher, you were a dancing machine. I don't know if it was the adrenaline rush of staying up an hour past your bedtime or a natural sugar high from the roughly 78 grapes you ate but you were a beast on the dance floor.

Two-stepping, spinning, flailing arms, rosy cheeks--you were a sight to see buddy. And nearly everyone was watching you. You started swaying with a Chinese song, breakin' it down during a Swahili number, and took command of the dance floor when music from India came on. It was pure joy for you. I loved every second of it.

Your dancing Papa.