Two cases in point:
So, I kind of have this thing for singing in the car. I know I'm not the only one... in fact my friend Lindsey recently posted a status update about this that almost made me want to stop singing in the car forever. Backstory: she's a first-year professor at a university in the area and she looks really, really young.
I just opened the following email from a student: "Hey Lindsey, I passed you on the way home today and couldn't help but laugh. I've never seen anyone singing along in the car so openly like that... you seemed really into it. It was pretty funny. Hope the rest of your day was as good as your trip home seemed to be. See you tomorrow." Obviously I'm cultivating a mature, professional image around here.
So yeah, turns out, people can actually see into car windows. Bizarre, I know. I had a really hard time grasping this idea. In case you didn't catch it, let me explain this again, more clearly: if you're belting it out with Katy Perry and making "Roar" faces at a stop-light, people around you can tell that you are singing along because they can see you.
My brain still has a hard time understanding this, and my heart still has a hard time accepting it.
Which is why I still sing along like I'm some kind of awesome car-opera-singer every single day. For pretty much every single song. Really, really loud. No matter what.
Anyway, the point here is that the other day I was singing along to the radio in the passenger seat (Lolly was driving) and I was getting really into it. I'm not sure what song it was... probably something really masculine and fatherly like P!nk or Ke$ha or some other artist with a punctuation mark in her name. At a critical point in the song--probably the chorus--I turned around to sing to Tessa in the back seat because in the past she used to try to sing along with me and it was adorable. Only this time instead of singing along, she took one look at me belting out the song and she immediately looked away. And it wasn't like a "Oh, I'm distracted by something outside the window" look away. It was a full-on, stare me down in shame for a moment, then a "Dad you are embarrassing both of us right now. I am too ashamed to look you in the eye. Stop singing. Immediately" type of looking away. The kind with an eye-roll. I think she even audibly sighed in disgust.
It was devastating.
When that happened, Lolly was like "Oooooh! You just got burned!" and we laughed for a minute, but then she told me that Tessa had done something similar to her that morning.
Tessa isn't potty training, but occasionally she'll indicate that she has to go pee pee and request to do it on the toilet and so we help her whiz in the pot. (Side note: being a parent is a really weird job sometimes.) Anyway, Lolly was in the bathroom and Tessa came up and requested to go pee pee on the potty just like she has a few other times in the last few weeks. So Lolly helped her take off her pull-up, set her on the toilet, and Tessa made wee wee like a big girl!
To celebrate, Lolly clapped her hands and was all "Tessa! Good job!! You went pee pee on the potty like a big girl!" To which Tessa replied in a sassy voice: "It's not a big deal, Mom."
Right. Got it. Lesson learned. Pee pee on the potty was so two weeks ago. Now T is way too cool to sing with daddy or be applauded for toilet victories.
We are learning.
Anyway, here's a photo of Tessa being a big girl by sitting on her toy kitchen eating yogurt.
"I'm smiling for you, but only because I choose to. Not because you are being 'cool' or 'fun' or anything..."
And then, finally, a photo from FHE tonight when we were having treats, and Tessa was eating a chocolate Santa (okay FINE it was a chocolate from last Christmas, so SUE us), and she was like "Ho ho Ho!!" and then bit his head off and was all NOMNOMNOMNOM and it was cute and funny I MEAN unremarkable and totally cool, and something any 13-year-old would do.
"It's not a big deal, Dad. I just ate his head." --Tessa