Anabel would momentarily cringe if she saw my gleeful use of the word 'teenybopper' in reference to her sweet self. I remind myself of my Dad in the way that I find delicious the act of feigning to use the teen lingo, but doing so incorrectly on purpose. She seems quite a bit more whole than I felt at that age, but I can tell that this newfound little guilty joy of mine still stretches her a bit. Unfortunately, though, she's adapting quickly and the JoyBoy and I are having to be extra creative in keeping it fresh.
Just the other day, when JoyBoy began to dance in front of Anabel and her 14-year-old friend in our kitchen, we were discouraged/encouraged to see her immediately join in. Healthy for her, yes, but deflating for the parent who was giddily seeking the teenaged cringes. Here are - for your viewing pleasure - some shots of some real, live dancing. The afro features prominently, as I'm sure I don't need to point out.