I'm the kind of person who skips to the conversation when reading a book.
“Did you get my note?” Hannah asked me this morning. “The one about the Kenny Chesney poster?”
Indeed I had. The other night when I had gone to bed, this note was on my pillow.
“It has to be life-size,” she said.
“Really?” I confess that I was astounded at this conversation. “Why do you need a Kenny Chesney poster?”
“Because I really like his music,” she explained, with a bit of ‘duh, Mom’ in her voice.
I went through a Kenny Chesney phase years ago. The only song I could think of at the moment was “She Thinks My Tractor’s Sexy.” Do I really want my 9 year old singing a song like that?
“When do you listen to Kenny Chesney?” I asked her. In the kitchen, it’s almost always Dvorak, Mozart, or Broadway shows that are playing. (Kind of an odd assortment, I know.)
“On Finley’s Pandora,” she explained. And I thought Finley was a Coldplay kind of guy.
I could tell she was getting a little exasperated at the conversation. After all, all she wanted was a poster, a life-size poster, of a man.
“Tell me again why you like him?” I queried.
“I just like his music. It makes me want to sway and dance,” she explained.
Sway and dance? I thought. Maybe I need to add a little Tchaikovsky to my line-up. But could Swan Lake really compete with Kenny Chesney?
“Don’t hold your breath on this,” I told her.
I hope that’s the end of it.