The Most Amazing Singer Ever

Dear Taylor Swift,

My sons are genetically predisposed to love you.  That is all.

Jess

Monkey Man LOVES Taylor Swift.  Adores her.  “She’s beautiful” “She has nice lips” “She sings so pretty” “I love her hair”.  He has a Taylor Swift doll that sings.  He has all her albums (and he knows the names of each album).  He has a Taylor Swift blanket.  He’d have a shirt if they weren’t so big.  He knows all the songs.  He knows most of the words to the songs.  He knows Taylor.  If there was a “Name that Tune: Taylor Swift” edition he’d win.  Even if the radio is cut down.  Even if Bug is screaming at the top of his lungs.  He hears five seconds and it’s always “THAT’S TAYLOR SWIFT!”

Who’s the greatest singer in the world? Taylor Swift.  Who has hair beautiful like Rapunzel? Taylor Swift.  Best songs ever? Taylor Swift. Most recognizable face in the planet? Taylor Swift.  Can be found better than Where’s Waldo? Taylor Swift.  We walk into a store and Monkey Man can see her face from 30 yards away.  Even if it’s minute. Even if it’s blended in.  Even if it’s on the cover of a CD 100 feet from us.  He knows her face.  “MOM! TAYLOR SWIFT!” As I look frantically everywhere to be able to confirm he is, in fact, correct. 

And Bug loves her too.  Bug never coos or gagas too much.  He’s a quiet man.  Sits back and watches the world go by.  But today, when Taylor was on the TV … boy went crazy.  Cooing and Gagaing along with Taylor.  Something about her is enchanting.  And my boys love every single moment of her.  So much so that Monkey Man is saving every dime for her concert.  Its here in Memphis in October.  No, I don’t have tickets … yet.  But he’s saving his money.  The dollar from the Easter Bunny? For the concert.  Birthday money from grandparents? Concert. Change from Clark Kent’s pocket found on the couch? Concert money.  Other three-year-olds want cars and action figures.  Not my son.  He wants to see Taylor Swift and buy something at the concert.  It’s a phenomenon that few parents ever get to see.  This is beyond crush level.  This is near obsession (but not in a creepy way) level.  He wants her to come to our house to play upstairs in our playroom with him.  He wants to marry her.  He just wants to hear her sing.  Any chance he gets.  So, Taylor, if you ever read this, I’ve got your biggest little fan right here.  Waiting for you to come play dinosaurs with him.

I love every minute of it.  I love the way his eyes light up when he hears her songs on the radio.  I love how excited he gets when he sees the Covergirl ™ ad in the store.  I love that he sleeps with his blanket and his book (about all things Taylor) at night.  There are few moments in childhood that a parent can just watch happen and be amazed by.  Monkey Man amazes me every time he sings her songs.  No one else is allowed to sing.  This is “Taylor’s song, mommy.  Let her sing.”  And he belts it out along with her.  I love the shocked gasps when her song is on in a store and he hears it.  He can be running around the living room screaming like a banshee, but have a Taylor song come on the radio in the kitchen and he stops, comes in the kitchen and states in an excited voice “MOM! I hear Taylor!”  It’s a moment I laugh at every time.  The sheer joy of a child over something that he loves.  It’s an amazing thing and I hope he does get to see Taylor sing live.  Will he remember it?  Maybe.  There will be pictures, and we’ll talk about it.  But he doesn’t have to remember all the details.  To him it will be just as awesome (perhaps) as a play date.  Because she’s her and at three years old, he can’t possibly be more intrigued with anything else.  Thanks, Taylor, wherever you are.