We speak no Americano

So Lucas' thing every night is to wait (impatiently, as of 6:00) for Papa to get home and do la-la-la. Not everyone can do this, and those who try are generally found to be lacking in the proper technique. That having been said, my brother Derrek might come pretty close if he had the chance.

La-la-la involves pressing a lot of buttons (which I usually can't find) to find the song "We speak no Americano" from Yolanda be Cool in our bottomless music library, making sure the music is only playing inside the house and not on the deck (which I usually can't figure out), and then turning up the volume very, very loud (the one thing I am good at). Then, we run around the house: circles around the kitchen island, through the living room, behind the couch, across the lounge, out on the deck when it isn't raining, and back around the kitchen island again. Multiple times.

No one knows why We speak no Americano is the song this running must be done to every night, but we have stopped questioning it and have accepted this is our anthem.

And in the end, Lu is worn out, red faced and delighted by it all.