He was talking with his friends after the Macarena, discussing what they would do next.
I watched with bemusement, then with surprise, as he lifted his hand, pointed at me, and declared “I want to dance with HER.”
And dance with me he did.
Except for the snowball dance, where we were each forced to seek new partners, he danced with me all night, until he reluctantly said goodbye…
…when his parents said it was time to go home.
He was four.
Was this by any chance Shana’s boy?
I’m not sure exactly–but I kinda think not. The woman who came to get him to go home wasn’t Shana.