Sometimes the hubby and I look at Miss A and then back at each other knowingly as if we are both thinking “we are SOOOO going to be riding on this girl’s coattails of fame 20 years from now.”
We may also be thinking, “Holy sh*t we are SO in for it” when she’s a teenager.
I can see her now, rocking out on stage like Sheryl Crow with throngs of fans cheering her on and a limo out front and a closet full of the hottest shoes. Every style. Every color.
Wait a minute. That’s Hannah Montana.
Any who, our neighbor’s little girl gave Miss A a much coveted pink plastic toy guitar last weekend and she has practically slept with the thing she is so enamored with it and its promise of rock star girl glory. She’s played it so much that she’s worn a blister on her index finger. Yes, she loves it that much. She’s even got the “one, two, three” JAM look down.
Look out America. She’s got talent.