Right now my mom and step-sister are decorating the house for my baby shower. I’ve self-banned to be near the warm glow of the computer.
Yesterday we picked up one of those "Make Whitey Feel Good" music collections from Putumayo music. It’s a really fun CD with a collection of Colombian music, and we bought it because the music is so happy.
And partly because mom and I wanted to see if there would be something we’d recognize (so far I have recognized one song and all of the beats….. cardinal rule: never make fun of the pregnant woman dancing).
And later today, we’re going to buy Juanes‘s latest album.
With the mildly naughty song about the black shirt and the evil woman who’s breaking his heart.
Which the baby loved.
We were listening to it the night I arrived and it was catchy and funny and sexy and dorky.
And then the baby started moving….
And it kicked me while it danced and drummed on my ribs.
Baby had never kicked me anywhere near there before. But Juanes’s song sure did it.
And that’s how I know that my baby cannot deny the Colombian blood flowing through its little fetal veins; that good, happy, delicious music that sounds like an explosion of happy in your ears entered through his little developing ones, and the rhythm was irrepressible inside that little body.
And dance its little butt off it did.
We may not look very, ahem, "Latin."
But you’d better clear that dance floor, dammit!