The Old Bamboo...

I am sure I have damaged my darling son in some way. I just know that he will hate me when he grows up to be a man (sniff). On Christmas morning my husband’s parents invited all of the staff of their estate to the house for drinks (one small sherry and a Ritz cracker) as per tradition. Due to the recent addition of their own grandchildren, in a separate room they provided cheesy puffs, Asda cola and music so that the little people to dance and amuse themselves. Max became very emotional when he observed the children dancing and he fled to the nursery.

I mopped my darling boy’s eyes and sat listening to his tale of woe. Apparently one of his little school chums (Felix) has told my perfect son that big boys don’t dance as “it is too girlie.” My munchkin was clearly very confused.

“I simply don’t know what to do for the best,” he said.

I popped on the TV as I knew Chitty Chitty Bang Bang was on TV. Dick Van Dyke was skipping and jumping about without a care in the world, singing “Me Old Bamboo.” Oh how we laughed.

“Diddums” I said, “why your father was dancing just like that the night we met. Grown up men can only get themselves girlfriends if they are good at dancing,” well how was I to know that he would take me so seriously?

My perfect poppet took my words literally and spent the rest of the morning practicing dancing on the veranda with an old fishing pole. He really is acquiring quite a skill! He wants to be just like his papa (ha!).

I am terribly proud of him you know. I just pray that he tones down the dance moves before his first school disco or our future relationship shall be doomed...