My Son and the Little Red-Haired Girl

My son.
My seven year old son.
Decided he wanted to dance at his uncle’s wedding reception.
I suggested he ask his Aunt Amanda (she had just danced with Pickles).
He said he wanted to dance with a kid.
I suggested he ask his cousin Ruthie (Ruthie is five and will do anything).
He said:
“No, I have a girl in mind. Remember the girl who was handing out candles?
I’m going to go find her and ask her to dance.”
He danced for at least 45 minutes with a couple breaks.
He changed partners once or twice but mostly stuck with his original choice.
He was a hit.
I don’t know where he gets it. Not from me. Not from Father.
Here’s a short video I took. Unfortunately, it doesn’t show the spins.
At the end of the night, when we were going to leave,
he went up to the little girl and said:
“I have to go home now. It was a pleasure meeting you.
Thank you for dancing with me.”
In the car, the girls (who danced a little bit, with each other)
asked her name. Then Ribby asked how old she was.
“Nine,” he said.
“That’s a little older than you,” Ribby replied, rather pointedly.
“Two years older,” he said proudly.
(Note: Clearly homeschooling hasn’t hurt his socialization skills…)

11 thoughts on “My Son and the Little Red-Haired Girl

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