Pop diva.

Um, I'm not ashamed of this. Not even a little bit. It's an upbeat song with G-rated lyrics (that she doesn't even understand anyway). So inappropriate? No. Adorbs? Undoubtedly. In fact, my little teenybopper heart is bursting with pride. And a tad bit of jealousy that she gets to grow up with the likes of Call Me, Maybe and Party Rock Anthem. (Although, I did have Oops I Did It Again and Bye Bye Bye, so really, I'm not too jealous...)

Here's the thing: we don't listen to the radio very often. 9 times out of 10, a CD called 50 Silly Songs is playing in my car (just ask the husband, he loooooves it.) She heard this song twice and knew the words immediately after that. This girl has an insane memory.

For those of you that didn't have the privilege of watching me grow up, well, you just had a taste of it. This is me circa 1988. I had a love affair with the "stage" just like Brooke, only mine was bench seating in my parents' family room instead of a fireplace. And I, too, sang along to the whole song even if I didn't really know all the words (and still do.) She may have gotten a lot of my unfortunate traits (sensitive skin, stubbornness, & an aversion to melon, just to name a few) but I am soooo glad she inherited my love for dancing & performing.

Dance on, girl. You'll always have an audience with me.