I know you all don’t truly know me. You only know what I choose to tell you here. I try to appear sane, most of the time.
Well, let me share with you that I can be a little crazy, and I like to cut up somewhat. Yes, it’s true. I think it comes from the Powell gene. My dad was goofy and the laugh of the party. While I’m not the laugh of a party, I am certainly goofy.
My kids absolutely drive me nuts more hours in a day than I have fingers, but on occasion we have some fun. Being a former cheerleader, an almost drama minor in college, and a former newscaster, it is safe to say that it’s not uncommon for me to do some goofy things on a whim in the privacy of my home.
Like the time I tried to get my son, when he was a toddler, to eat asparagus. I broke out into an impromptu Britney “Asparagus“ Spears song and dance which had a lot of “Oops, I ate it again!” in the made-up lyrics. Let’s just say I have nothing on Britney, but he certainly tried his asparagus.
The other day I was having lunch at our local Roly Poly with my 3-year-old. It was a fairly busy time for the little eatery. I got up to refill my iced tea, and, all a sudden, my daughter yells loudly as I walk away from her.
“Do the Booty Dance!”
Perhaps it is time to stop my crazy antics at home.
Never. It’s in my genes. It just can’t be stopped.
But I will refrain from doing the booty dance in Roly Poly.
Aren’t you glad?