Ok, I had another epiphany today. I realized (finally) why my DD’s dancing cracks me up so much. Last night my DH was prepping the kids’ dinners and he said, “come on, its Scebby Doh time”. As soon as he uttered those words, she came bounding into the kitchen doing her coming-to-Jesus dance. You know the dance I’m talking about. Think back to those 80s-90s family sitcoms that always had ‘an African-American church choir coming down the aisle, hands waving in praises and feet dancing/high-stepping, (as the music swells in the background), to rejuvenate the entire congregation’ scene at some point during its run. (That might be a jump-the-shark moment for all I know, but I digress.) Some of my favorite movies have these scenes too as a matter of fact. That Ben Stiller movie where he is a Jewish rabbi comes to mind, but anyway that is my DD’s dance.

In the perspective of a canned pasta meal, it comes across even funnier, I swear. She backs it up too. Once she’s in the chair, she hoovers that stuff down like there is no tomorrow and usually ends up eating someone else’s portion too. DH was complaining of being hungry later last night b/c he said DD didn’t leave him much to eat. Of course, this was probably a complete ruse to polish off the last of the homemade cookies, but I can’t say for sure. So anyway that is my newest epiphany. Some of us cure cancer, others of us figure out what is so freakin’ funny about our kids. We're all here to do our part, right?