Michael Jackson

Children are whimsical, weird, wonderful and wacky. They’re fantastic, funny and frustrating. Messy, marvelous and magical. Daggy, doozy and dangerously lovable.
Somehow I have scored the winning goal and have ended up with three of the most adorable little creatures. I mean, they make me laugh and cry and experience every emotion possible – sometimes all in the one day.
I could go on forever, in post after post, about my girls and how I love them. And I sometimes do. But I wanted this post to be about one of them.
If you’ve been following my blog (and the previous one) for a few years, you may remember reading about my predictions for Sophia. She was legit only 2-3 weeks old when she deliberately moved herself from her tummy to her back. I remember being at home and rehearsing harmonies from Beauty and the Beast when she was 7-8 months old, and she would sit in her chair singing loud and proud with me. To the point when I could hardly hear myself.
Ever since she was very little, she has loved all the attention she can get – and she soaks it up like a sponge. She will sing and dance and play music, and with such emotion you’d think she was auditioning for a lead role on Broadway.
We started her in dance lessons last term, and she has been loving it. They got to perform on stage a few weeks back and she couldn’t get enough – and continues to talk of how she is going to do choose her songs and costumes for the next performance.
A typical middle-child, she is, and although we sometimes struggle with her misbehaving, it’s her quirky ways and endless cuddles and kisses that finds its way back to us at night when we watch over her as she sleeps. It’s funny how quickly and much is forgiven and thrown out the window; how many bags of flour and washing powder she can empty out onto the floor, how many tubes of toothpaste end up on the mirrors and floors and items of make-up she gets into, oil-cans she happens to have a play with and cans of WD-40 is sprayed everywhere – at the end of the day, she hugs me harder and kisses me softer and smiles the biggest smile – and it’s impossible to feel anything but a huge and immense love for her.
In six months she, too, will be ‘leaving the nest’. It will be her time to be off to Kindy (for Nordmenn, so e det altso aaret foer forste klasse. 15 tima med skule-forbereding kvar veke). She has not had a single day in childcare in her life – yet I am positive she will be more ready than many of her peers then. She is so chock full of confidence so she will be alright.

If you have read all of this, you may be questioning why I named this post Michael Jackson. I wanted to tell an anecdote about our little one.
Now, MJ is not a big part of our life. I mean, we listen to his music sometimes, but as with many other artists, we don’t necessarily talk about them – the music is just there. So when Melodie was invited to a MJ-themed birthday party a month and a bit ago, we had to do a google-search to show them who this person was. We talked about it a few times, and then that was it. Since then, I can’t remember talking about him much at all.
A week or so ago, Simon was at home with the kids while I was at rehearsal, and when I come home, he tells me about how Sophia had walked down to the storm water drain (avloepskummen) that’s just down from our house, bent down and called out:

“Michael Jackson!! ARE YOU THERE??”
I cracked up laughing of course, and so did he. Out of all the things she says, all the ridiculous, random things she comes up with – that one pretty much took the whole cake. But it didn’t stop there.
Today, Melodie and her had fashioned some mobile phones out of some mail we had received, and as we were driving to meet up with some friends, they sit in the backseat calling people and playing games or whatever their imagination came up with. And then:
“Mamma,” she says, and I can hear by the tone of her voice that she is cranky. I ask her what is wrong.
“Michael Jackson is not listening to me.”
She has apparently called him on her phone – and he’s there – but he refuses to listen.
I don’t know what the deal with MJ is. I just can’t deal…

Xxx,
Line

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