Dance Partay

It started out innocently enough . . .

. . .  as these things always do.

We had some friends over . . .

. . . because we have a Field . . .

. . . and because they are cute. . .

. . . kinda cute . . .

 . . . okay deeply cute.

A football was tossed, a frisbee was thrown, a soccerball was kicked, there was hiding and there was seeking.

And of course photos of our athletic endeavors do not exist; the photographist was himself was the chief athleticizer.

But then the wind and the rain and the why . . . why . . . why?

And so  . . . inside. To the world's most unchildproof home . . . 

. . . where there was -- quite clearly -- only one thing to do at a time like this . . .

You know it, I know it.

That's right . . . 

Dance Par-tay.

Airborne.

We held hands by twos and by threes . . .

. . . but it was all about the fours . . .

. . . because we are quite a quartet of dancing machine.

We were rocking it.

And let me ask you this . . .

. . . has anybody gazed upon you like Baby Bea does upon me here?

Because I am here to tell you . . . it's pretty great.

But let's not get distracted . . .

. . . we've got some dancing to do.