TheMonk and Swee’Pea have a little musical table which has a million little buttons and dials and nobs that all elicit music when pushed, rotated or moved. Some of this music is better than others. For instance, I could do without the Cello-sounding thing. On the other hand, I’m quite fond of the little lid that opens up to jazzy scat singing.
Bri, is quite the muscial prodigy and loves to listen to music. You give her a beat and she’ll start swaying in beat to the music. She has soul and rhythm that could only come from her quarter Mexican, Quarter African-American genes. TheMonk, on the other hand, has not taken to music so quickly as his sister. He enjoys it, but has not quite mastered the art of rocking to the beat in quite the same way as Bri.
Now, in addition to being a quarter Mexican and a quarter African American, TheMonk is also half white. And not just any white – it’s redneck white. My white roots go back to Kansas while Andrea’s go back to Texas. So, maybe we just weren’t playing the right music. You see, one of the dials on the little musical table plays banjo music. It is probably the last place on earth (at least the last place in Southern California) one could actually hear banjo music. It also happens to be the only music to date that drives TheMonk to boogie. As soon as he hears that banjo strumming, he’ll rock his head violently front to back – not to the beat, mind you, but it’s a start. In fact, his dancing is so bad that he reminds me of Kevin Bacon’s best friend, Willard, in Footloose who doesn’t know how to dance.
So I’m afraid that TheMonk might have inherited my redneck gene. The good news is that TheMonk doesn’t know he can’t dance and if I’m doing my job right, he won’t care what other people think when he gets older. And there is still hope. Willard eventually learned how to dance.
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