Dancer

Little One's current favorite toy is this orange singing microphone She got for Her birthday.
Personally, I am not a huge fan of anything plastic, ESPECIALLY if it has lights and buttons and MOST ESPECIALLY if it makes all kinds of noise.  If it requires batteries, it makes me cringe.
But Little One has Her own ideas of what's fun.  And for Her, this maniacal microphone is the epitome of fun.  It transforms Her. Into a Diva!  It gives Her portable, on-command ability to do Her favorite, favorite thing.  Dance.
The dang thing plays the same three songs over and over. And over. And OVER.  Pretty much all day, because I have to practically pry the thing from Her Jazz Hands to get Her to eat and sleep.
She pushes the little button, and it erupts into a jangling, clattering rendition of some repetitive kid song.  She whirls and spins and swoops around the house.  She dips and shakes, wiggles and prances.
Here She comes, across the dining room on Her tippy-toes.  There She goes, back the other way twirling and swinging Her arms.  There She is in the kitchen doing...is that the Carlton?...and diving into a somersault.  As the song ends, She sweeps Her arms up over Her head, throws them back and pauses dramatically for applause.  Which She happily gives Herself.  Before pressing the button again, for the 556960th time today, and choreographing a new masterpiece.  She often sings along.  This din is deafening.  She is too busy to hear what I'm saying. Or put on Her shoes, get Her hair brushed, take a nap.  She's totally immersed in the music. 
Tonight, J and I watched Her while we finished the dinner She was too dance-antsy to eat, booty-shaking around the table.  I listened to the digitized pseudo-saxophone for the 556975th time today. And I couldn't help but think, "WOW.  I am really going to miss these days when they are gone".