Owen and I have decided that this must be the case. He has decided that dancing is where it's at, and that mama dances HILARIOUSLY. All my years of dance training (years of dance lessons, bloody feet and ripped tights and sweat-stained leotards) have been tossed out the window as we spin in circles and stamp our feet and waive our arms and dance like goons to anything - television commercials, Owen's recorder or xylophone, or even just mama singing off-key.
This age is amazing and has blown my world open in ways I cannot begin to understand. And while I want to pause and grab as many photos as I can, I am remembering to just be in the moment, dancing like a goon with my cackling son. The camera can wait, we are living life man.
And dancing. Dancing. Dancing