Really. It is.
Because I? Finally got some time to work on my paintings. And my paintings? Are really none other than name signs right now, and they’re going directly into a little store in town to be put on display for people to look at as examples of what they might like to order. Awe. Some.
Or as Cheyenne would put it, "Beast," "Epic," or even "Legit!"
I am lovin’ how kids put stuff these days, and I look foward to the moment that I can put one of these words to good use in my own conversation–because sometimes, "cool" just doesn’t give an accurate description of how awesome something truly is. And I say the word "awesome" way too much.
I am also looking foward to the day when Cheyenne might say "Legit!" when referring to me or something that I choose to wear or listen to. Right now, we have very different opinions on what is cool and what is not cool. I’m sorry–beast or not beast. She never compliments me on my legit shoes or my epic taste in music. Yesterday we were driving to a church thing and I was rocking out to what–I thought–was a pretty epic tune. I was wrong.
CHEYENNE: "See? This is what I’m talking about. This is the kind of christian music that I can’t stand. I would rather listen to christian-screamo."
ME: "Is there such a thing?"
CHEYENNE: "Yeah, sort of."
ME: "What do they call it? Chreamo?"
CHEYENNE: "Nooooo. It’s just way faster paced than this horrible, slow, sanctuary-churchy music. This kind of stuff makes me want to rip the heads off of little bunnies."
That statement pretty much ended our delightful chat. And later, just to jack with her, I told her that Caleb and I had signed up to sing a duet at church.
CHEYENNE: (completely pale and wide-eyed) "No. NO!"
CHEYENNE: "What song?"
ME: "Perhaps you’ve heard it. I’ll sing a few bars for you:
‘It’s hard to believe, that I couldn’t see
that you were always right beside me!
Thought I was alone, with no one to hold,
and you were always right beside me!
This feeling’s like no other.
I want you to knooooooooow…’
You get the picture. And if there’s anyone out there reading this that has been in the presence of a 10-year old girl within the last 5 years, you probably are already going, "Whoa-oh-oh-oh!" to yourself. (It’s from High School Musical, y’all.)
I’m not singing at church. She figured that out after the first few words of my little ditty. It was interesting watching her face, though, as I continued to sing and dance, and pop and lock, and jam, and break–I don’t get it. Mia and Merrick love my moves. And my singing.
They think I’m totally legit. And I think that’s totally beast.