He’s got chicken soup on the stove, just cranked the stereo and is hip thrusting to “Burning Down the House” and he knows All The Lyrics. He’s cooking up grilled cheese with the Amish cheese and bread we bought yesterday and while he is doing NOTHING the way *I* would do it, but he’s doing it, he’s listening to pure crap (i’d have NPR on), he’s dancing with the kids and he’s goofy beyond belief. And I love him.