My little metronome dancing in his grandma's arms.
This boy has got the rhythm and has got it bad. He can't crawl down the hallway without stopping to bob his head and shake his big ol diaper booty so long as there is something to rock out to, be it Fela or the washing machine. As long as there is a beat, he is good to go.
My mom, come to think of it, is quite the same. She has always taken every opportunity to turn something into a dance or a song. I admit, I have been known to do the same.
I guess there is something to genetics, after all.