Pop Culture, 101

Ever since Ella started walking, her relationship with Ben has been taken to a whole new level. I've waited for this stage for 15 months, and I knew with her sassy little 'tude, she'd be able to stand up to his almost-four-year-old zaniness. No longer is she the delicate baby who can't do much but fuss and potentially get in the way of his boyish playtime. In his eyes, now she is fair game, and he isn't interested in wasting any more time. By golly, there are months' worth of games he needs to educate her about! He's tried teaching her about the game of Tag which, so far, seems to be their most successful game. In our house, a game is successful if the quantity of laughs outnumber the quantity of tears. Yesterday they both willingly participated in a somewhat organized match of wrestling. Half the time I couldn't even see them but about every 5 seconds yelled out "BE GENTLE WITH HER!" for good measure. I like to refer to this method as "Halfway Parenting". In a pinch, it works wonders.

And then today a new game was born. I think this game is called Intro to Pop Culture, and it has me deeply afraid. As I was cleaning up breakfast this morning, Ben & Ella were playing together quietly in the living room. And I overheard a very frustrated Ben say this to my sweet & innocent baby girl:

"NO, SISSY! (his affectionate nickname for Ella) You can't walk away from me because I'm being Super Man, and you have to be Lady Gaga! Okay? OKAAAAAAY, SISSY? BE LADY GAGA! Mama, sissy's not being Lady Gaga!"

 Ella, sweetheart, Mommy is begging you: please don't be Lady Gaga.

How or when or where he heard of Lady Gaga, I'm not really sure. I tried to inquire about how he knew her name, but he was still hyper-focused on being Super Man, who had a universe to save and a pop star to charm. And so it begins; he already doesn't have enough time in his day for his poor mother.

What can I do? Nothing. We already went almost four whole years without the words "kill" or "gun" entering his vocabulary, and I regard that as hugely successful considering how it was just a matter of time before he'd create a gun out of a toy screwdriver and pretend to kill me with it. So for now I'm perplexed, playing it cool, and putting all TV viewing on heightened security. But trust me, if either of my kids so much as hum the tune to "Poker Face", I am SO calling a shrink.