Regan and I always have dance parties.  It’s our favorite thing to do. We turn up the music and dance all of our cares away.  Not only do we bond, but mommy gets to burn some calories.

The other day we were dancing in the kitchen and I did a move typical of someone from my generation.  Yes, your girl was gyrating.  In the kitchen.  To Mickey’s Hot Dog song. While the toddler looked on.

To be perfectly honest I didn’t even realize that I was doing anything inappropriate.  That is until my child, as innocent as she is, began to mimic me.  I stopped.  No, no, no!  Don’t do that.  She just laughed like it was funny.

I felt like a total hoebag failure.

Then I switched up my dance moves and did my best Daisy Duck, trying to erase the memory of mommy dancing like Diamond from the Player’s Club from my baby’s mind.  I think it worked.  She hasn’t wiggled her little booty since.

In the future I’ll pay close attention to my dance moves.  I think it’s time to reintroduce the Twist to this next generation of children.  I don’t care how ridiculous I look.