Yesterday morning was grey and rainy and The Mayor was a little needy.
Though he greeted K with a chirpy "Good Morning, Daddy," when he saw me he scowled and said something like, "eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehhhhhh!"
I managed to bust him out of his supa-funk by teasing him about being a grumpy, old troll with a warty, warty nose.
Later, I stopped rushing around getting ready, sat him on my lap and sang him a made up I love you song involving the tickling of various body parts.
I... nose, nose, nose, nose LOVE YOU!
Lately I've been trying to remind myself that sometimes The Mayor and Rooster Girl are grumpy simply because I'm moving too fast and not spending enough time focused on them.
It seems to make a big difference when I slow down for a minute (or five or ten or eleven million) and give them all of my attention.
This seems to be especially true on work days. They spend most of the work day at daycare and I know they miss us.
The Mayor often complains, "I don't want to go to school. I want to stay with you."
[Can you hear my heart break?]
The Mayor and I have a daycare drop off routine involving ritualized kissing, hugging and waving that has been working well for us since July.
This morning, as I was getting ready to walk out of the glass door for the waving part of the routine, The Mayor yelled,
Without warning the old, hit song "Turn the Beat Around" was playing full volume and the classroom walls were vibrating.
The Mayor and I joined hands and performed a spontaneous, Broadway worthy show stopper complete with booty shaking, turning in dizzy circles, waving-your-hands-in-the-air (waving-'em-like-you-just-don't-care), jumping up and down and singing along.
We broke a sweat with our 7:30 a.m. Gloria Estefan bust-a-move.
Spent at the song's end, I walked away waving wildly to The Mayor...
...and I haven't been able to stop smiling since.
If only life were like a Broadway musical.
If only we could break into song and everyone nearby knew all the lyrics and coordinated dance moves.
Life would just be better all the time.