Weekend

This little imp had a ball at my friend's retro swing dance party Saturday night.  He loves to dance.  He dances by rocking from foot to foot in a wide samurai stance.  He had no fear of darting right into the forest of legs to squeal and romp, and went mostly unnoticed but never knocked over.

He was a handful to look after!  All-you-can-drink vintage soda bottles were a constant temptation, and my main function was to swipe drinks and food up and away from his grabby hands at the last minute!  I gave him some sips from my Cheerwine, but he preferred to swig coke-flavored residue from an empty bottle.

He insisted that everyone else's bottled water was better than his (mine), liked going up to the bigger boys, and "cut in" with the dancing couples, facing the girls and doing his rocking dance.

Since we were up and in fairly good shape, I had the bright idea of going to morning Mass.  But I got my times and locations confused, and we arrived just at the crowd was dispersing after the closing hymn.