Do the Booty Dance!

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!”

Um! No!

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?