Bubba and I had a fun afternoon yesterday hanging out in the kitchen, cooking up a storm chatting, singing and dancing.
Music has always been a big part of my life, and it has so far been a big part of hers. We’re excited to be starting ballet classes together in a couple of weeks, and since she was born there has been at least one part of every day where I’ve danced with her in my arms.
As I twirled her around yesterday singing One Direction’s What Makes You Beautiful (okay, I may have played it a few times), I wondered at what point she’s going to say to me No mumma, you can’t come to the One Direction concert.
Of course it won’t be One Direction because, let’s face it, they’ll be like so old by the time she’s a teenager. And will probably have broken up. And at least one of them will have been in rehab, and someone will have a successful solo career. A la Robbie Williams. Or maybe they’ll still be together and just be a man band rather than a boy band.
Back to the point. There will be some boy band who Love Bug goes absolutely nuts for. At first I’ll probably wonder what the fuss is about, but as I listen with her to the catchy tunes I’ll start to like their music too. Because that’s what happens.
I’m not ageist when it comes to music. Our playlist yesterday afternoon was varied. In addition to 1D, boy bands across the past few decades were featured. As was Calvin Harris, Florence, Michael Buble, U2, The Killers, Carly Rae Jepson, Temper Trap, the Glee cast, David Guetta, Radiohead, Barbara Streisand, Katy Perry, DJ Earworm, Lady Antebellum, Christina Perri, Ed Sheeran, Rudimental, Chicago … and the list goes on.
So given my love of a wide variety of music, I’m probably going to (if by saturation than no other reason) come to love the music she’s listening to. Hopefully she will still be happy to dance around the house with me to whatever music is playing.
There is going to come a point, however, when she gives me the look. You know, that look. The one that she is going to give me when she is trying not to hurt my feelings, but she needs to let me know that she would be mortified if her ancient mumma, who she loves to the ends of the earth, dares to show her wrinkly face at a boy band concert. And heaven forbid her mumma have a favourite boy.
Just for the record, I get the Harry appeal but I’m more a Louis kinda gal. You know, in case you were wondering. Not that I’d knock Harry back…