Once, when I was about 13 years old, I managed to trick my dad into arriving at the movies a little early. I lied to him about the start time of the "show" (as he calls it) so we wouldn't miss the first 5 minutes like we always did. Big mistake on my part. Minutes after we took our seats, my Dad was standing and began making his way to the front of the theater. He stood in the front and announced to all the other movie-goers that he was going to entertain us until the movie started. By the middle of his little stand up comedy act, I had sunk down so far in my chair I was practically sitting on the floor. Then, to my horror, my Dad pointed right at me and introduced me to the entire theater full of people. Everyone turned in their seats to stare at me, the comedian's daughter. My Dad and I didn't go out in public for a while after that.
With experiences like that under his belt, I should have known better than to invite my Dad to Zumba. I really don't know what I was thinking. Let's just say the class began with him dressing like a gangster, sagging pants and all, and ended with him discussing the quality of instructer's butt.
I don't even know how we could possibly be related.