Things have a way of getting strange at my house whenever Cheyenne is around. For instance, one night last week, she and Mike decided it would be best if they did a 45-minute yoga routine in my living room. They were pretty adamant about it, too.
And don't get me wrong--I love dance parties. Looooove them. Especially when I'm having a dinner party and I finish off a bottle of wine before anyone even arrives and then after everyone gets there we open three more bottles and after we eat an impromptu dance party erupts with Lady Gaga on the iPod and the windows wide open. Yep, love them.
But I have to draw the line when someone puts on that damned Waka Waka song and things devolve into a conga line in my front yard. I love Shakira (particularly She Wolf), but I gotta draw the line somewhere.
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