(Excuse me while I wipe the tears from my eyes. ;)
Today M and T started going to a hip hop class. And this is so funny because there is nary a single musical gene between J and me. In college we took a ballroom dance class together. For credit. For an actual grade. We passed by the skin of our teeth and probably then only because there were a few handwritten tests that tipped the scales in our favor. Seriously, beyond that we lack all abilities to move with any sort of musicality, neither one of us can hear the beat. Oh, we can pretend. And we try to convince the other person that we're on it. We might even be for a count or two. And then all bets are off.
But, T-man has some mad freestyle moves that make us shake our heads. Where did this come from? Surely, this must be nurtured. (Clearly, not by us.)
And the class? Straight up hilarious. I was so thankful that I could hide my laughter behind Beza's head. Watching them try to follow choreographed moves was like watching myself at aerobics--I try really, really hard, but I just have no clue what I'm doing. But, by the end, they were actually looking good out there. And T rocked the free-style portions--can't get enough of that. :)