Wake Up, Wake Up
So here's what I've been wanting to write about MG. It's a sad thing, sort of. But funny:
She's discovered vapid teen pop music.
A few weeks ago, she started incorporating a new routine into her nightly living-room performances. Along with the somersaults and dances, she'd do this chanting/droning/sort-of-singing thing where she'd go, "Wake up! Wake up! on a Saturday night! Maybe New York! Maybe Holllllllywood imbine! London! Paris! Maybe Tok-eee-yoo! Sump'n goin' on, aaaaanywhere I go, toniiiiight....." Then with a big finish, she'd jump down and splay out her arms and go: "I'm.......Indian Girl!" [I know. I cringed. But I feel I must report the whole thing.] "I'm......Cheetah Girl!" [another jump, another splay,] "I'm..... Hilary Dove!!"
Because I occasionally do crawl out from under the rock where I live, I recognized that last reference as a mangled version of "Hillary Duff," teen sensation and Disney property (The Mouse strikes again!). A little investigative Googling produced this, and then this.
If I were as clever about childrearing as I am about tracking down information, I would've waited to do all this until MG was in bed. Instead, she heard me playing the 30-second RealAudio sample Amazon provides, and insisted on listening to it over and over, until it embedded itself stickily in my brain, torturing me for days.
"Is that her?" she asked, pointing at the image on the screen. "Is that Hillary Dove?"
"Hillary Duff," I corrected, pedantic to the last.
"She's even prettier than I thought," she breathed.
Somehow she wormed out of us the information that this song, in addition to being passed around on the playground like a virus, exists on a CD that can be purchased for money. So now it's on her birthday list.
I knew this day would come. I just didn't think it would be this soon. RW and I are consoling ourselves that at least she's had high-quality musical influences for the first 5&1/2 years of her life: The Beatles, Joni Mitchell, Broadway musicals, Richard Thompson, Sweet Honey in the Rock, Lucinda Williams, Barenaked Ladies, Dan Zanes...
I know, I'm a music snob. We both are. But it goes beyond that: this is the first time that my kid is the one introducing me to pop culture, not the other way around.It's kind of a shock.
I know this is just the beginning. But her taste's gotta get better, right?