Dancing Queen

If ever I wished I had a camera it was this past weekend at Target. Susan was in line waiting to check out, and Elizabeth followed me over to the pharmacy to pick up some allergy medicine. You know, the "over/behind the counter" pseudoephedrine (Claritin-D) that you now have to get from the pharmacist due to the fact that idiots use it to make crystal meth. But I digress.

As I was handing the young man behind the counter my ID to scan, I glance back at Elizabeth who is standing in the middle of the aisle. Without hesitation, E shouts out "I've gotta do my moves" and proceeds to crouch down, and wiggle her torso and rear-end in a bizarre little dance. She then jumps around and repeats the "move" with her back to me.

I turn around somewhat wide-eyed and see the young man grinning from ear-to-ear at my little girl's "rhythm." Not sure what to make of this, I say "She had to do her moves." To which the young man replies, "Yeah, I can see that."

Nobody puts Sweetpea in a corner.

Rich