Where The Jonas Brothers Meet David Cassidy
Girl-child is transparent like scotch tape. She’s eight years old, going on raging teenage-hood any second. Her bedroom walls are covered with posters of Disney Channel celebs…High School Musical Cast, Miley Cyrus, Zack and Cody, and other assorted teen cute-miscreants. She falls asleep every night under a poster of Zac Efron, showing his amazing rows of perfectly straight white teeth. Probably capped. Paid for by the network.
Girl-child’s latest celeb-crush is The Jonas Brothers. And why wouldn’t it be? They’re, like, frickin’ everywhere. And since we are terrible parents and let the kids watch Disney Channel ad nauseum, every other commercial break is peppered with a Jonas Bros interstitial or music video or teasing, taunting glimpse from some network-arranged “concert” somewhere.
I am more than happy to give Girl-child the chance to long for older teenage boys.
Because my mother let me do the same thing.
Of course, my walls had photos of David Cassidy on them, and Davy Jones from The Monkees, and god-knows-who-else.
I can see that gleam in Girl-child’s eyes when she picks up a tween magazine with the Jo Bros on the cover, that sort of glazed look wherein she’s trying to decide, Do I want to be Mrs. Nick Jonas, or Mrs. Joe Jonas, or Mrs. Kevin Jonas? I know who she’d pick, of course, ‘cause I’m a girl and her mother, and I know we have similar tastes (for example, we both love her dad and think he’s the cutest). I’ve even posed the question to her…”Which Jonas Brother do you like best?”, and she does the right and sensible thing and plays Sweden (or Switzerland, whichever is the most peace-loving) and says, “I don’t know.” But I know. Oh yes, I know.
The thing is? That damn Disney? The videos? The constant teevee time? I almost hate to admit it…but…those JB songs are growing on me. I know…argh…right? But really...it’s not so bad, enjoying what your young daughter enjoys, seeing the world through her eyes, feeling like you did when you were her age, like life was as wide and expansive as Montana, everything was open to you, and love was this thing that you didn’t understand a bit of but knew it made that flutter in your belly. It didn't and doesn't matter that the pop phenoms were and are manufactured by networks, agents, and marketing execs. Not when you're a tween girl.
I’m thinking of getting Girl-child a Jonas Brothers cd today.
Maybe they’ll have a David Cassidy one for me, too.
Here are those damn cute Jonas Brothers:
And David Cassidy: