Early morning dance practice

While I get ready to go to work he practises dancing like Michael Jackson, carefully watching himself in my bedroom mirror.
He's fussy about the clothes he'll wear to dance in, only certain shirts will do. And he has to wear a hat. Preferably the one Daddy bought him from New York.
And when he thinks I'm not listening, I hear him chatting away to himself, pretending he's going off to dance school. So sweet!