Yesterday we hit a milestone.
It’s called “independent play.” Hannah is about to finish kindergarten and for the first time in her life, she went to her bedroom, turned Justin Bieber on her ipod player and proceeded to dance in front of a mirror.
Alone. A-l-o-n-e.
For the first time in nearly six years, I did the unthinkable. I sat down, with a cup of coffee and switched on Oprah.
May 11, 2010, I got Oprah with coffee. The storm that has been Hannah’s baby/toddler/preschool years has officially ended.
Scott was on my laptop facebooking, Hannah was in her room dancing, I nearly felt guilty for the indulgence.
“Look at this.” I said to Scott, as I settled into the recliner.
“Where’s Hannah?”
“In her room….dancing! Hear that? It’s Justin Bieber…(coming from the hall, you could hear Baby, baby, baayybee….) I haven’t seen Oprah in more than five years!”
“Good for you, Mom, you deserve it…”
Commercials go off and I hear Oprah’s voice come on, you know the dramatic voice with the trailer for today’s show…I don’t remember the exact words, let’s just say it went something like this…
“On today’s show…..he’s the biggest….(cameras show throngs of screaming girls) he’s themost talented…..(cameras show more throngs of screaming girls…in Austrailia…) he’s quite possibly the most popular teenager on the entire planet….(a third throng of screaming girls…in Paris…)
He’s JUSTIN BIEBER.
Oh for cryin’ out loud.
The frickin universe is working against me and I know this for sure. Where’s Dr. Oz and his gross dead organs? Where’s Tom Cruise jumping on a chair? Hell, I’d settle for SUZE ORMAN and her financial advice I'll never follow...
The scene switches from throngs of girls screaming, to girls being loaded into an ambulance because they’ve been trampled on at his concerts, then it shows him singing on stage.
I can hear him from down the hall.
I can hear him and see him on TV.
I turn to look at Scott.
“Don’t do it.” He says….”Just change the channel.”
“I can’t. It’s damn Justin Bieber. I’d change it if it were the Jo Bros, but I can’t change Justin Bieber.”
“Come on, Mom, it was your first TV in almost six years. Justin Bieber sounds like a girl. Watch something else.”
“I can’t.” And with leaden footsteps I go down the hall, open her door, where she’s crooning a Justin Bieber song at her reflection in the mirror, holding a giant pink microphone. She stops what she’s doing and looks at me. “You’ve got to come see what’s on TV.”
“Why?”
“It’s Justin Bieber. He’s on Oprah today.”
She runs past me and jumps into my recliner. I grab my coffee and settle into another seat. She is mesmerized by everything she’s seeing, the girls, him on stage, him talking….I’m pretty sure she might be holding her breath. She won’t even blink.
He is talking. Justin Bieber talks. He has words. To say. He’s saying his words. To Hannah. Only.
“I love my fans, yeah, my fans, they’re the best….” “Yeah, I get in trouble sometimes, on tour, my Mom takes my phone away, things like that…” “I like to take one day off a week and be a regular kid….” “No, I don’t get an allowance, I just tell my Mom what I want…” “No, I don’t get nervous going on stage…”
Then Oprah goes on to talk about how she’s selected a family of three girls to go on a limousine ride with Justin Bieber for a day, they get to watch him rehearse, then front row seats for his Oprah concert.
Hannah is not happy about this.
They show Justin Bieber in the back of the limousine with the three girls who are now Hannah’s mortal enemies. Her nemesises (or is it nemesi?)
“I want that.” She turns and says to me with a tone and demeanor made famous by the legendary Veruca Salt.
“What?”
“I want to ride in a limousine with Justin Bieber.”
“Well honey, it’s not that simple.”
“Yes it is. Those girls are doing it.” Her tone, like Veruca’s, is very flat. She very, very direct.
“Yes, those girls are doing it, but they’ve won a contest.”
“I want to win a contest.”
“Hannah, thousands and thousands of girls entered that contest. It helped that their father is deployed in Iraq. He’s a soldier.” As soon as I’ve said this, I can already picture Frank in an army uniform and us tearfully saying goodbye to him for a year or so, so he can risk life and limb by serving our country, so Hannah could have a decent shot at winning a limousine ride with Justin Bieber.
She’d be on Oprah with Justin Bieber, in a limo, then the camera would switch to show a live shot of Frank in Iraq and Hannah would say something sweet like “Oh, hey, Daddy, can you call back later, I’m in a limousine with Justin Bieber. Just talk to Mamma or Scott or Oprah or somebody. Bye.”
“I don’t care who enters it. I want to enter it and I want to ride in a limousine with Justin Bieber, just like them.”
I say nothing because it is pointless. She continues:
“Enter me in a contest NOW!”
Um, okay, I’ll enter you in a contest…here it is:
The Veruca Salt contest. You’ve met every single one of the entry requirements. You are the only contestant. Surprise, you’ve won. You’re Veruca. You are Veruca Salt.
“I’m gonna marry Justin Bieber, I don’t care about Jake (little kindergarten boyfriend) any more.
“Aren’t you gonna date him first?”
“No. I’m just going to marry him. Like you married Daddy.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t you think I can marry him?” Actually, if anybody can, she can….at some pointsomebody will, I just hope for Justin Bieber’s sake, it isn’t Hannah. But it could be….you know karma’s a bitch and he’s had a pretty sweet ride so far. Hannah may be just what he needs…
“Sure, I suppose….”
“How do I get him?”
And now I’m visualizing me with Willie Wonka. “Okay, Mr. Wonka, how much for the little rocker boy?”
“Justin Bieber’s not for sale, Mrs. Flynn.”
“I WANT JUSTIN BIEBER AND I WANT HIM NOW.” My little Veruca would say, looking directly at me, not Wonka.
“Okay, Mr. Wonka, seriously, how much for the young celebrity. My Veruca wants him. We‘d like to take him home….I‘ll write you a check...”
And during that show, Hannah grew up just a little bit. She was able to see what “thousands” of girls look like in a group. It began to click that sometimes life isn’t fair, some girls get to ride in limousines with Justin Bieber, but most girls don’t.
Most girls want to marry Justin Bieber.
But only one girl will….
And mine’s got a better shot at it than most of them and that’s because my daughter thinks she can. My Veruca doesn't see why not... I like the way she thinks.
Go get him, Veruca…..
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