My family has always loved to dance. Some of my favorite stories from my grandparents are the ones from when they were dating and would steal the spotlight as soon as they hit the dance floor. I remember them dancing in their living room at holiday parties if one of “their songs” came on. Even now, though they are older and dancing is harder, they will always tell their stories and play us clips of their favorite musical dance numbers that they recorded off the television.
This love for dance was passed on to my mom, and then to my sister and me. We took dance lessons growing up but, before that even, we would choreograph performances for our families every time we got together with our cousins. My aunt taught us how to car dance. There was always music, and there was always dancing.
I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that my son and my niece now also love to dance, but I am. Pleasantly surprised. Some of my favorite memories from when my oldest niece was younger is having dance parties with her and my sister in their dining room. Now, my son and I have those dance parties in our own dining room. Any time music comes on the radio, the TV or the car, he’ll start dancing or clapping his hands. It’s almost as if he can’t help himself. I just about melt every time he does it.
I’ve always had a hunch Lenny liked music, even before he was really in the move. He had always sat, mesmerized, when his grandpa plays the guitar. At just a few months old, he would kick his little legs when his play mat would make music. At the time, I remember hoping he would enjoy dancing when he got older; I now get to watch as his love of dancing grows. Maybe someday soon Lenny will be putting on front-lawn dance performances for us with his cousin, too.