ever since she’s been taking weekly ballet/tap classes and we’ve been jamming to all sorts of music (we’ve been listening to devotchka, katy perry, whitney houston, grandchildren, lorde, and the wizard of oz album all thanks to rdio [sign up for it. it will change your music listening, seriously]) ramona cannot stop moving her body.

“watch my move!” she commands. “watch me, mama! do you like my move?” and she shakes her booty and flips her hands and shuffles her feet and throws in some plies and passes and releves (all those french ballet words should have accents on them somewhere but i’m not going to bother) followed up with some twerking. yes, you read that right.

it’s our new favorite way to spend our morning: jp and i on the couch with our coffee, watching ramona bust a move or two or five on the living room floor. usually she prefers to dance on her own. until she doesn’t. then you betcha she’s dragging us out there and bossing us around: “no! move your head like this! you stand there. now bend down. move like this. my turn. SPIN ME!” not sure i would usually condone this attitude but her being a little dancing maestro really kills me.

and i love to see her discovering how she can use her body movement to express herself. she gets this look in her eyes (you can see it in the photos) and she gets into her own world and gets so so serious about what she’s doing. even though she demands an audience, this little lady is not hamming it up. no sir-ee. she is straight up all business.

now, when she’s sad, we talk about dancing as a way to cheer her up. it usually works. goodness, if we all had a coping mechanism like that.