Every time I mention that Alexis essentially runs the show when it comes to the music selection in the car, I get grief about it. I don't think that there's a good way to explain why I grant the kid control other than to say, well, because she cares about it more than I do.
I love music. I really, really do. In fact, I very nearly was a music major in college. I was offered a full scholarship at a college in North Dakota and a partial scholarship at another college. Perhaps you've heard of it? Oberlin? Yeah. Seriously. Obviously, I decided to go in another direction and things worked out just fine, but I really do love all things music.
Alexis loves it more.
She has spent her entire life bopping to the rhythm in her head, dancing to the beat that only she can hear, and composing lyrics that often make sense to only her. She spends hours "performing" in her playroom and even more time creating a stage wherever she goes. From the retaining wall in the garden to stairs at the playground, all the world is her stage and every passing moment is an opportunity to perform.
So if she wants to sing along to some Katy Perry while we eat dinner? OK. If she wants to jam to a little Britney Spears when we're walking through the mall? Fine. If she wants to blast Pink at top volume while we're driving home? Sure. I can usually tune the noise out.
I draw the line at Justin Bieber, though. I have to have standards, and my standards want to punch him in the face. I don't really know why his music annoys me so much, but it does. I'd rather listen to the Black-Eyed Peas live (which, ACK! they're horrible live!) 24 hours a day and 7 days a week for the rest of my life than even one second of Justin Bieber.
Alexis, of course, loooooooves Justin Bieber. Just last week she told me that she hopes he breaks up with Selena Gomez so he can be her boyfriend instead. Just as soon as I was done chaining her to a register in the basement, I told her she's not dating until she's 50-years old.
I live in a Justin Bieber-free zone. As I should.
Or at least, I used to.
See, I have this thing for the $5 albums on Amazon. I'm sort of addicted to snagging one or two each month. I usually get albums specifically for Alexis with the idea that her terrible taste in music is far less annoying when it rotates a lot. For example, I can handle Britney Spears once or twice per week. Every day, though? NOOOOOOOO.
Justin Bieber has a $5 album this month. I stared at it one afternoon for a few minutes, contemplating what sort of award I would deserve if I bought it for Alexis. Then I punched myself in the face for even considering it. But then I thought about it again later that night, and again the next night, and then again Saturday morning. I kept thinking about how I tortured my parents with New Kids on the Block and how they rolled their eyes, but went along with it.
You guys, my parents sucked as parents in many, many ways. It bothered me to realize they had me beat in that one aspect. If they could tolerate really bad music, I should be able to, too.
But I couldn't just buy the Justin Bieber album. HELL NO. Instead, I figured I would dangle it in front of Alexis' face for a bit and see what I could get out of it. I showed it to her on my laptop and then asked her what she thought she could do to earn it. Her immediate response was to say, "I'll clean my playroom!"
I could not have possibly asked for anything bigger.
Alexis NEVER cleans her playroom. She's actually not required to, as it is her space and I can close the door and pretend I don't know that she and her friends set off a few bombs in there. For as long as Alexis is good about cleaning up any and all toys in all of the other rooms of our house, I've told her that the playroom is hers to do what she wants with. It's her "Sacred Space."
But it was soooooooo trashed when she made the offer. I knew it was trashed. She knew it was trashed. She also knew that it would make me crazy happy to see it cleaned up.
Two hours later, silence reigned supreme over the house. I figured Alexis had forgotten that she was supposed to be cleaning her playroom. I walked in expecting to find her coloring or ripping the clothes off of dolls or something. Instead, I walked into a very nearly spotless room.
You guys.
YOU GUYS.
Alexis not only picked up the toys everywhere, she took the time to put them away correctly. Each bin is perfectly organized--the Happy Meal toys are all in a bin together, the play food is organized perfectly, even the play silverware is sorted and stacked neatly. It looks like a really anal retentive person cleaned it all. Namely me. But it wasn't me. It was her. ALL HER.
And all because she wanted a Justin Bieber album.
I think I may want to kiss him on the face.