This little boy LOVES music. I recall documenting in his baby book early on, around two months, that music was the one thing that would soothe him. I didn’t think much of it then because I presumed it was something typical for his age. I didn’t realize it would stick. And evolve.
But it has.
We have a radio in the bathroom, above the toilet. Yesterday morning he prompted me to follow him in to the bathroom. I did. He proceeded to whine and point to the stereo and then he broke out into a little booty bounce, signaling that he wanted the music on to dance. I obliged. He danced.
Today he walked over to the record player and played with the knobs. Then he walked back to me and in the same fashion, pointed to the record player, whined, and broke out into a little booty bounce. On went the record, down went that booty to the floor.
I love music. I feel music. I’m touched and motivated by music. It warms my heart that me may just be the same way.
The best part? My mom saved many of the records she played for us as kids. They are now in my possession and I couldn’t be more thrilled. The graphics are great, the tunes nostalgic. Today, a dance party is in session.