“How many stars did you get, Mom?”
“Not a lot,” I laugh.
“How many?” F. persists.
“Are you really going to make me say it?”
My husband suppresses a laugh but fails to hide his grin.
“I got none.” I admit.
“NONE!” All three boys hoot. “You said not a lot!”
“None isn’t a lot,” I clarify my earlier statement.
At this Chaz loses all composure.
Santa brought a Wii for Christmas but I bought the zumba game myself. In the game, you mimic the dance steps to earn stars.
The first time I did it, A. asked if I was OK. I think he might have thought I was having a seizure. The second wasn’t much better, but humiliation is a dish best served alone.
“So you’ll zumba with us?” I don’t want to. I like to shake my zumba thing in private.
A. nods his head up and down and smiles.
So we dance, if that’s what you want to call it. We dance.