The Underwear Dance

I danced in my underwear this past weekend.
   Well, I guess, technically speaking, any time you dance you're dancing in your underwear. As long as you're wearing underwear, that is. I mean this past weekend I took off my pants and danced in my mother's living room in my underwear. So did my brother-in-law. And, no, before you ask, there are no dark secrets between the two of us. We did it because my 2 1/2 year-old nephew asked us to.
   See, he had his pants off for some reason - probably some potty reason - and he was running around the house in his undies. Pull-ups, I believe, though my sister would know for sure. I told him that he should do the underwear dance, which he did, and I joined in. Then he told me I needed to take off my pants. Which I did, what kind of fool does the underwear dance while wearing jeans? My underwear dance was more a twist, with some funk elements thrown in, coupled to a healthy dose of white-man-overbite dancing. But it was great fun.
   I made a few New Year's resolutions a while back, and to tell you the truth I haven't accomplished one of them. But the day of the underwear dance I resolved to be more honest, like a two-year old. My nephew is delighted by the smallest things, surprises to him really are a surprise, and disappointments, while bitter, are short-lived. I should model myself on him.
   I need to take more delight in things. I need to stop being so jaded. I need to have faith in people. I need to enjoy the moments I have. I need to let go of being an adult. I need to assume a position of weakness from time to time. I need to let other people take care of me. I need to trust more. I need to laugh when things are funny and cry when they're sad. I need to hug dogs more. I need to dance when the mood strikes me. I need to run when I get the urge. I need to get a reward when I go potty.
   We'll see how things work out. Seems to me that we all need to let the two-year-old inside us loose a little now and then.