Do the robot

“Mummy!  Want to see my robot dance?” asked Fainjin excitedly.

“Um, sure.”  The Dad and I exchanged raised eyebrows.

He ran to the lounge, collected his little music box, and ran back to the kitchen.  Carefully placing the music box on a chair, he pushed a button and a tinny version of Camptown Races began.  He hunched right over, swung his arms back and forth, and raced madly around the room stomping his feet.

We laughed, and so did he.  The music ended, and he straightened up.  “Dat’s my robot dance!  Want to see it again?”

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