Who Knew My Baby Was Elvis Reincarnated?

Are you ever weirded out by having someone talk about you or someone close to you, knowing that they have no idea who you are?  This happens to me a lot.  For example, I was at the NEX in Italy and chatting with the lady behind me who was talking about her son's professor (and how much he hated her.  Alas).  She went on and on not realizing that it was me.  Yes, I knew it was me because I was the only female math prof teaching at that time.  Plus, "Texan," "thinks she is funny" and "talks non-stop" further pointed in my direction.

So it happened again on Friday.  I am chatting with this woman who, as it turns out, is describing my sweet bebe's behavior during MOPS.  He might look like I washed his daddy in hot water and shrunk him but parts of his personality are all me.  Alarmingly me.

At MOPS:  He insists on meeting and greeting everyone in the room.  When someone else starts crying, he goes over to the crier, pats them and motions for someone to do something.  If no one moves fast enough he does his car alarm sound to hustle them along (yes, I have been known to do the same thing.  So embarrassing when I am called on it publicly though).  Then, the piece de resistance, while everyone else is slowly gnawing on their snack (bebe wolfs his down.  Why risk that it might get dropped?  Plus, there is always the chance that someone might think they overlooked him and he will get a second round.  BoNANza), he crawls on stage.  For his performance.  Seriously.

Yes, my sweet child crawls on the stage (weekly) to do a floor show while everyone else is eating.  He starts his dance without music.  Eventually, someone will turn on some tunes and they get the head bob and a finger pointed at them in recognition and gratitude.  He then continues his dance which involves lifting his legs up and down in some kind of hoe-down move, the John Travolta "Staying Alive" stance and, my personal favorite, the 360 degrees of booty-shaking.   He can also "raise the roof" if the climate is right.

The lady is going on and on about how hilarious "her favorite baby ever is" (and she has been doing this for, egads, 25 years).  Finally, she asks "Are you okay?"  I responded that I was pretty sure that she was talking about my son.  Once confirmed, she gushed "Oh God!  Do you ever have a bad day?  How would it be possible to not be over the moon happy every day with him.  He is such a hoot.  Seriously, I will take him home with me any time you want."  etc etc

Of course she can coo and gush, she is not the one who gave birth to Tom Jones!  Hubby and I have decided that for Halloween next year, bebe boy should be a lounge lizard.  Complete with diamante outfit, fringe, fake chest hair and gold medallions.  Stay tuned for photos.