Party Like a Rockstar

We traveled to Ponca City for Christmas, and I am excited because my child is a rockstar.  Or, he should be. He has his backstage rider all lined out: goldfish (cheddar and saltine); apple juice (at least 2 jugs); fruit snacks; Beef-a-Roni; fresh Huggies; and of course, M &M potty rewards.  I know this because he packed his own bag for grandma’s house (which also included gloves, clean sweat pants, and a box of wipes).

The child pulls in some amazing swag.  He scores cars--preferably with dubs (special thanks to his daddy for educating him on rims, blades, spinners, and dubs).  He has a t-shirt wardrobe that warrants its own closet-- from Garanimals to Eskimo Joe's.  He keeps his ladies hopping--from unwrapping his gifts (“you do it”) to keeping his bottom clean (“I wanna take bath”--three times a day).  

His personal assistant, a/k/a Mommy, makes sure he’s on time and that his outfits are polished.  His car seat is freshly scrubbed as is his blankie. His drink is freshened each time we go out, and she keeps a spare just in case he gets trapped in the dessert. He prefers that she just dust the ends of his hair so that he can feel it swish when he whips his hair back and forth. And, once a week, he gets his nails done when mommy does his mani/pedi/haircut.

He travels with an entourage.  Cuddles sits shotgun beside the little celebrity while Elmo and baby bear round out the trio. Cuddles, Elmo, and Baby Bear do not ride in the trunk of the car. They do not ride in the front seat. They ride where he can keep his eye on them--and make sure they are listening. Because he has a lot to say.

His performances range from “Jesus Loves Me” sung in the cart at Hobby Lobby to “Happy Birthday” performed for his aunts and uncles on Christmas Eve. Each performance is completed with a bow to his faithful audience.

I am excited. It is obvious that my child is a rockstar--and if you ask him, he’ll be happy to to tell you too.