“On the shoulders, pappa!”
I have a new form of excercise these days. Daughter Tilja stretches her arms up to me, saying, “On the shoulders, Pappa!”, I turn on the stereo so we can here Feist sing “1234″ and we start dancing around the apartment, ducking door frames and ceiling lights. Usually Tilja sings so loud we can’t hear the stereo anymore – then she orders me to run and spin. This can go on for quite a while:)
In celebration of that – here’s Steve Zissou, with a kid on his shoulders. One for the toque-wearers. Half way through, it turns into “one for the uniforms”;)