I don’t know why, but whenever I hear an assumed title, I think of this.
I always wonder how many takes were necessary to shoot that scene.
Much to her father’s chagrin, Mooter is a huge Beyoncé fan. I could go into the laundry list of reasons B-Fam doesn’t like Beyoncé, but I’m not gonna. Mainly because I also am a fan of hers. Not as huge as Mooter, please don’t misunderstand. I can’t touch the girl. I don’t think supernovas could contain her fandom. I remember being like that as a kid. Ah, the babies I wanted to have with Wanya Morris of Boyz II Men. Good times. Good. Times.
Whenever there’s a new video or song of hers, I make sure Mooter has it on her little mini-MP3 player so she can crank it very loudly and sing it to her heart’s content. Off key.
Before you call me heartless for saying my kid, my own flesh and blood, has less than stellar vocal qualities, let me just say my grandmother shared in this same quality and it didn’t mean I loved her any less. Even when she shared this quality with me and the entire church congregation. Every Sunday. Loudly. Nothing made you call on Jesus more than her rendition of Nearer My God To Thee. This is probably not helping my case but, hey. I gave birth to this. She’s mine. I claim her. So she can’t sing. So she can’t carry a tune in a bucket. SHE WILL MAKE ME MILLIONS SOME OTHER WAY.
Mooter is a non-stop talkaholic. For years, she went on and on in her baby-to-toddler rants. B-Fam and I thought it was a fluke that these words sounded like we shoved marshmallows in her pie hole. All kids sounded like this. Right? She hasn’t had many ear infections in her life, and passed every audio test the doctor threw at her. Maybe she was just trying to get a feel for new words and they sounded like flat tires stretched over harpsichords woven through a theremin. Yeah, that’s the ticket.
Years later, her audibles are… um… how shall I say… muted? It doesn’t help that she doesn’t pay attention to lyrics and knows no words to ANYTHING and will mumble her way through a song and tell everyone she knows it, while her father and I cheer and bleed from our ear holes. You may sound like a dying cat but, dammit, WE WILL SUPPORT YOU! Not all the way to American Idol tryouts because I love you too much but, you know. Still.
Mooter has been practicing trying to determine what talent she will perform for her school’s year-end Talent Show. At some point, she may have expressed wanting to “surprise Daddy” with a song. And I may have asked her, as nicely and motherly and supportive as possible, for the love of everything holy, not to do that. And she may have gotten mad at me because, in her mind, she is Sasha Fierce snap in a circle three times.
That is, until I asked to record her voice and have her listen to the playback.
We are playing drums for the Talent Show.
Oh don’t you judge me!