She is a delicate dancer. She twists her wrists when she is really into a song and kicks her feet. She even hums along and bobs her head. She only pulls out her moves for the worst of the worst. It's horrfying. But I must love her through this. Because I promised to love her for whoever she is and whoever she becomes. I guess I never realized that also meant if she had awful taste in music. But it does. I am not confident enough in my mothering skills to believe I will be successful in curing her of this. So I will try my hardest to expose her to more acceptable music while I come to terms with the fact that it may not work. And that I might be buying her tickets to see the future Debbie Gibson for her 6th birthday.
But for the love of Christmas, my darling girl, please please please come dance with me to the Pixies.