Dancing in the driver’s seat

I mentioned yesterday that “Bill Bailey, Won’t You Please Come Home” by Sam Levine is likely to induce some Dixieland dancing  in the driver’s seat. We’ve all been there, right? Caught red-faced and jive-handed, and even flipping a drum stick 16 seconds in?

As an added bonus for your Monday levity, we introduce you to Crystal’s mom. You go, girl!

I love the “Busted!” look of the driver at the filming passenger just before the 1-minute mark, and the “Done now?” at the end. I don’t get that courtesy in my car. Most of the time I hear, “Dad! Stop!”

It’s only a matter of time before my kids film me in similar musical rapture. I’ve been known on a straightaway to pull both hands off the wheel and shake everything that my momma gave me in the midst of some LMFAO or Flo Rida. Hey, if I am going to be forced to listen to the kids’ playlists most of the time, I’m going to have some fun along the way.

This is much to the horrific excitement of our kids, especially if this display comes after basketball or soccer practice. Our youngest cackles maniacally while telling me to put my hands back on the steering wheel. Our oldest laughs, but I’m pretty sure there is an eye roll to go with it. Our tween? He slaps me in the gut, and is most worried that his friend’s parent driving behind us is going to think I am some kind of lunatic.

Too late, most likely.

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