When things get edgy at our house the girls and I often default to a Lady Ga Ga dance party. We bust crazy moves and shake our tail feathers.
Marguerite usually suggests it by pushing her step stool over to the desk, jiggling the mouse, yelling "Ga Ga, Ga Ga" and shaking her booty the second she gets my attention:
And then Genevieve scrambles to put together the most bizarre ensemble available and it's on:
I dance my heart out like it's funk night at the 3B - minus the booze and smoke and boys. Just like that all becomes well.
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