That's My Boy

So, I'm a full dancing addict.
When I was five years old, I took tap and jazz lessons at a little studio. (I remember being so young that I couldn't figure out why our dance teacher didn't look like all us little girls – but realized that if I sucked in my tummy really hard, I, too, could have boobies. It was actually my rib cage sticking out, but at five, I thought I'd given myself a chest. Anyway.)
One year later, doctors discovered that I had a benign tumour in my knee. But the countless doctor visits/diagnosis/operation at Sick Kids in Toronto/recuperation time totally killed my dream of dancing for a good year. By the time I got back into it, I'd missed a couple of years and all of a sudden there were competitive dancers in my grade and me. I just wanted to dance. I didn't want to take a ballet class, a tap class and a jazz class. I just wanted to do jazz. (Jazz hands!) But the place I went did something awful to me: They made a "competitive" class and a regular class for everyone else, which had people 12 to 60 years old in it. I hated dancing with the old farts and I quit soon after. One of the biggest mistakes in my life; I just didn't have the sophistication/understanding/maturity to suggest to my parents that I go somewhere else to dance or take a different class.
Every time there was a high school dance, I'd beg my friends to go. I never cared if I looked silly, I just wanted to dance.
I remember in university, on the stage at AJs, dancing to Grease. Coming through the crowd at me was my uni crush, Scott. I looked at my roommate, grabbed her hand, stared in the face and ordered: "Dance! Dance like you've never danced before!!!"
We never hooked up but we did dance a few times together and had a slow dance together at our graduating prom.
I don't have a lot of time to dance now, but I still love it. (My only regret about my December wedding is that we didn't dance. There were 11 of us in Las Vegas, so not enough to have our own party and the Hubbie and I were too exhausted/overwhelmed/silly to go on a hunt in the city for an appropriate club.)
Now, I get on my dance thang two ways: My son, who's almost two, and I have dance parties in our kitchen. I also watch dance TV - Dancing With the Stars, and So You Think You Can Dance.
It would horrify most men, but I've taught my son to point his toe and tap it to the music.
But best of all, the other night, Dancing With the Stars came on, and just as Cheryl Burke and Christian de la Fuente were about to dance, my son tugged on arm and said, "Momma! Momma! I das. I das!"
Maybe in a decade or so, he'll be able to show me how to booty shake. It's my goal in life right now.
Seriously.
I'm not kidding.
Any booty shaking tips appreciated.

Here's my favourite dance video. If my hubby ever ditches me, I'm finding this guy, stealing him from his wife, and marrying him. Now this is a groom.