He did. We laughed then he spoke one word, "Kimberly."
In fairness to our first born, it's a genetic thing. I was Jerry the Goat in my family. My older brother, Bert, once noted, "Kathy, when you write letters to me in college, you use more exclamation points than anyone I ever met." When I first tried wearing heels, he chuckled, "You look like an awkward antelope." True.
Others walk. We boing! We're the Tiggers to the mellow Winnies of the world. Seems to balance out.
Boingers bring fun to the party. They also tend to find trouble. Kimberly was a joyful child, so animated and full of life. She never simply walked; she skipped, hopped, danced and frolicked her way through childhood.
Amused by her, one night at bedtime I challenged her, "Kimberly, I bet you can not WALK from the family room to your bedroom. No jumping, running or boinging! Just walk!"
Her eyes danced as she smiled at the dare. Her body stiffened like a soldier at attention. She walked, though I sensed she wanted to march, past the sofa, past the TV, approaching the piano. Eyes straight ahead she stepped into the hallway, almost to her bedroom! Would she make it? Just as she passed the piano, head not moving, her right arm flung out to the bass keys. She hit two grand notes, fanfare style! TA DAH!
There has to be pomp, even when we walk.
Happy birthday, my dear, dear Kimberly! Boing all you want, Honey! Eat cake and blame sugar!