I turned for a quick second as Abby grabbed the remote control and ran for the couch. Climbing up, she quickly found the button to change the station off of the Celebrity Fit Club I had been watching. Apparently, my daughter has a thing against VH1 reality show programming. It’s like sometimes I don’t even know where she came from.
Further flabbergasting, she turned it to a channel with Justin Bieber and his side-swoopy bangs.
She sat there enthralled, pillow on her lap. When the audience clapped and screamed in tween adoration, she clapped, too. If I didn’t know better, I would swear she turned it to that channel specifically to swoon over this 16 year old kid. Maybe it’s because I’m not in his demographic, but I honestly don’t get the appeal. Then again, back in my day it was New Kids On the Block and I didn’t understand their appeal, either. Not that I’m claiming my taste is any better. Since apparently I like guys who look like girls.
This is where I admit my very, very, VERY longstanding crush on Sebastian Bach, the main reason I bothered watching this season of Celebrity Fit Club. Also, while we’re at it, almost any long-haired rock singer of the late 80’s. I didn’t care for Tiger Beat, I had Metal Edge. What can I say, I had a type.
Even though I’m certain (and thankful) that this time with my 20 month old daughter was just a ridiculous fluke, I still had a flash of how my mother must have felt when I first sat dreamy-eyed at MTV. Well played, karma. Well played.