Puppet Master

A short and handsome man asks me to dance multiple times a day. In my minds eye, he's wearing a little tux and I'm donning a floor-length ball gown with not a hair out of place.

He taps me on my hip to get my attention (because he's not tall enough to tap me on my shoulder) and when I turn around, he grabs my hand and asks for a dance.

We waltz around the ballroom that looks a lot like a kitchen and smell the supper burn.

Thanks for the dance, handsome prince. I'd dance with you any day of the week (and I do, don't I?).

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I think it's pretty awesome that Elijah has invented his own sign to ask for a dance: he grabs my hand (or anyone's hand for that matter) and moves it back and forth. Often, he simply wants to watch me dance; he doesn't necessarily want to dance together. I've danced at the dentist, multiple stores, and of course in our kitchen.

I'm a sucker; I think I've turned into a puppet. Good thing my puppet master is cute.

Oh, how I love this kid.

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