Our fantastic three person dance party has been going every night for a few nights. The humidifier is our smoke machine. Each of us twirl our "dance flashlights". Johnny Burnette, Rolling Stones, Warsaw Village Band, Brooke Shive.
It all began with Jared picking the first few notes of Cancion del Mariachi. Beren said, "I like that music*." I jumped up and plugged in our music player. In moments, Antonio Banderas y Los Lobos were cranking and we were all running in a tight circle in our tiny bedroom.
Beren discovered he could fit into a pillow case, and I swung him around. "Watch the wall!" Jared said. We spun until I couldn't. Beren began to fade and remained inside his sleeping bag pillow case. This time, he was cradled in Jared's arms, just like old times.
*Beren does not like all music, however. One evening, Jared absently played the melody of "Eye of the Tiger." I began to sing along. Beren was interested. The lyrics are about an animal.
"What's that music?" He asked. "Eye of the Tiger," I said. "What's that?"
I turned to YouTube.com for interpretation. The opening bars sounded, and the band members strutted down the street in the fuzzy video. Beren went for the iPad. I was concerned that the coiffed rock stars appeared to be looking for a fight in the video, so I subtly directed Beren's attention away. He went for the iPad again and then the speakers.
He turned the speakers sideways. "Terrible music. Terrible. Terrible."