I try to clean my kitchen every morning before the kids wake up. It's a futile act, since after they wake up, they live to destroy it, but I just can't find the time during the rest of the day, so this has become my routine. While I'm cleaning I like to play music as loud as I can without waking the kids up, but it almost always does. Then I'm forced to put on a Barney, The Wiggles, or the Nick Jr. soundtrack. You have yet to experience shell shock until you go from hearing the Sex Pistols to that Song that Never Motherfucking Ends. Because it's not lying - it really never motherfucking ends!

This morning Lil Miss came down the stairs and into the kitchen rubbing her groggy eyes with her belly sticking out and her hair dangling in her face. Without a prompt from her, I automatically switched CD's and popped some Eggos in the toaster. Suddenly, started whining and pitching a fit, bitching about something that I couldn't understand because you can never make out what the fuck she is whining about when she is whining. And not for a lack of trying, either. The child has her own made up language consisting of drowning cat noises and high-frequency car alarm sounds.

"Weeeehhhhhh Ehhhhhhh Meehhhhhhh EEEEEEEEE MONEY!"

"What was that?" I asked.

"Eyyyyyyyyyye Wannnnnnnnn MONEY!", she stomped.

"You want money? Wow! What a coincidence!", I said. "I want some money, too!"

"Noooooooooooooooo!", she cried.

"Dude, I can't understand you. You're gonna have to switch to English."

"I said, I want to whisten to the Money Man", she huffed.

"The Money Man?" I asked.

Who the hell is the money man? Then it hit me.

"You mean Johnny Cash?"

"Yesssssssssssssssss," she hissed, implying what a moron I am for not picking up on that 3 minutes ago.

I've never been prouder of that child than I was in that moment. Now would be a good time for her to ask for a kitten or a pony or a unicorn or something.

Rockstar Mommy wrote this in Folsom Prison

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