A phone call from an hour ago:
Beautiful: "I'm the worst mother in the world!"
Me: "Worse than me?"
Beautiful: "Yes. Even worse than you."
Me: "Why? What could you have done that's so bad?"
Beautiful: "You know how when Lily's tummy is upset or she's super tired I rock her and sing and it calms her down?"
Me: "Yes . . . "
Beautiful: "Well, today I sank to a new low. I was out of lullabies and couldn't remember all your funky old 60's hippie songs, so I turned on the radio and danced with her in my arms to soothe her."
Me: "Yeah . . . so? Sounds fine to me."
Beautiful: "Mom, you don't understand. A Pink song was playing."
Me: "Pink? That's not so horrible."
Beautiful: "It was Pink's latest song."
Me: "Oh. Yeah, that's pretty awful. What have you done to my lovely granddaughter????"
Beautiful: "It gets worse . . . "
Me: "How is that possible?"
Beautiful: "After the Pink song, a Britney Spears song came on and I kept dancing with the baby in my arms. She heard a Britney song! I think that makes me a worse mother than Britney herself."
Me: "Yeah. Pretty much does. I'm sorry, sweetie, I thought you'd be a better mother than I am."
Beautiful: "I know, right? And you didn't even set the bar all that high!"
Me: "Well, you might as well get Lily a tattoo and Disney contract now."
Beautiful: "And a pair of those shoes . . . " *
*Isn't our ability to speak in embedded links and photographs astounding?