Hard to believe behind his back they call him 'The Mountain'.

And I guess that's why they call it the blues
Time on my hands could be time spent with you
Laughing like children, living like lovers
Rolling like thunder under the covers
And I guess that's why they call it the blues

It seemed like a normal, albeit very tired Tuesday morning. I'm washing endless dishes at the sink. PJ and Ben are sharing the newspaper at the island. Lochlan is trying fix something on my macbook. Sam and Duncan are talking about the weekend. August is stretched out on the couch by the fire, eyes closed. Dalton isn't up yet. Quietish. Elton's on the stereo. My choice.

John comes in from running errands, including taking the children up to school because it's pouring. All hands on deck, he calls and everybody groans but gets up. That means he wants everyone to help do one single trip bringing things inside. It turns a lot of work into a two-minute job.

The second everyone is out of the kitchen he locks the french doors behind them and grabs me in a dance. A very elaborate tango through the kitchen. Just me, John and Elton while he sings the song. I am surprised and thrilled. I love dancing. I love Elton. I love John when he's in these kinds of moods. He spins me past the glass doors while everyone stands there and stares, my arms high above my head and brings me back in, swaying me back and forth in his arms, smiling down at me. He ends the song with me back where I started at the sink and he heads across to unlock the door but before he lets anyone back in, he blocks them.

She needs more fun. More good days. More HAPPY. Got it?

They nod. Loch walks in and pretends to throw a nasty uppercut and John pretends to hit him back but then takes him into his arms and takes him for a waltz around the kitchen too. I turn up the music and we all watch and soon they are all begging for turns and my eyes start to sting just a little because it's so much fun to watch them getting along so well.

Dalton finally appeared and had no idea what was going on but thankfully was a really good sport and got the last dance of the morning.

This can be cult rule #1. Forget the sex parties. I want breakfast dancing.