Hip Hop, baby!

Captain Adventure likes to dance. He also likes to sing, wear other people’s shoes, and to bang things together.

So he was in seventh heaven Saturday night, when he had my shoes (which make a very satisfying bump-thump noise on the Pergo) and a pair of old cookie racks (Clang! Clang! Clang!). He was doing a rather involved little dance in the kitchen, gyrating his hips, clopping the shoes, singing and banging the racks together.

Then suddenly, he noticed he had an avid audience and stopped to address us, with the air of a professor of archeology explaining the mysteries of ancient Egypt.

“Ah, badda baah ba dadda mamma DA! DOOS!” {points down at the clown-sized shoes on his little feet}

“Are you dancing?” I asked, in that gushing, enthusiastic, higher-pitched voice instinct for some reason impels mothers to use with their babies. He stared at me, aghast. “Are you doing ballet?”

He gazed at me mournfully, the racks down at his side, his countenance downcast, and shook his head silently. His entire demeanor simply screamed: I am so misunderstood as an artist…

“Oh!” his father and I realized in unison. “Is it hip hop?”

He brightened, nodded, and said, “Uh-huh! Ab-op! ba-ba-ba-baaaaaaaaaaaa-ba-ba!” {returns to dancing and singing and clomping and banging the racks together}

Even Nigel Lythgoe would have been forced to admit: my son is one of the top ten most adorable hip hop artists in the world!!