The title tells all. This Christmas I found myself shaking my booty and tapping my feet alongside my father. We tag teamed a raft challenge, flew around in a spaceship and popped bubbles, and jumped like maniacs to gain speed on a roller coaster. We even hi-fived and recorded a victory dance. Okay, there was one snafu. My dad and I were really getting into this one roller coaster race; we were trying to beat the clock, but were both under the impression that it was a race to beat the other. One lunge and a high jump later my dad ate it on the couch behind us, my response? A panting, “suck it, dad,” as I crossed the finish line only to find myself waiting for him to complete the “mission”. I can’t remember the last time I soberly committed to a victory dance with him that was non-football related, and better yet- the goddamn Kinect takes photos for us with added captions like “Gettin’ Low!” and “The Twin Jump!”
So while my father and I indulged in our competitive nature, my mother and sister sat fixated on the couch. Why? Because we looked like buffoons waving at nothing, stomping our feet, spitting and swearing at our Kinect Avatars. Gotta love the evolution of family bonding.