Annie and I finished our Thanksgiving feast day with a little dance lesson in my room. I couldn't stop yawning, but I did my best to teach her the Roger Rabbit. It took a little coaxing to remind my muscles just how that move used to go, but it came back, and along with it, memories of assorted church dances.
Yeah, I agree re: Justin Bieber. The hair, for starters. It's terrible. Scary moment last week when I walked into Graham's room and saw him tossing his hair in front of the mirror. He was trying to get the swept forward look. I just smiled and bit my tongue. Then there's the voice. No, not the singing voice - I think his singing voice is sweet. (Graham asked me, while we were listening, "So he hasn't come to puberty yet?") No, it's his speaking voice. The kid has this weird urban/southern thing going on, a really off-putting accent, and I just don't buy it from a white kid who grew up in Canada. But Annie wanted us to dance to this tune, and so we did.