I’m Tony Bennett
Dressed in her pink Minnie Mouse nightgown and her big brother’s blue light-up sneakers, and with my oversized sunglasses planted firmly on her nose, my two-year old daughter dances into the living room and announces, “I’m Tony Bennett.”
I turn to her brother and sister and ask incredulously, “What did she just say?” They laugh. “Yeah, Mom, she’s Tony Bennett. You know, from Lady Gaga’s Thanksgiving show.” “Right,” I say. This can’t be good.
It’s February, but my toddler has been watching Lady Gaga’s Thanksgiving concert every night before bed since it first aired three months ago. She has memorized not only every word to every song in this one-hour special, but also every line to every commercial between songs. So in addition to belting out the lyrics to “Edge of Glory,” she frequently reminds me that Macy’s is having a Black Friday sale.
My husband suggests we buy her some age-appropriate DVDs. “How about Winnie the Pooh?” he offers. I laugh. It won’t work. She doesn’t want to watch Dora the Explorer or The Wiggles like my other children did when they were her age. She instead has some strange fascination with Lady Gaga. I’m not sure if I should be worried or proud.
Maybe there is some musical genius in her future. I have never heard a child so young master so many melodies. But if my little Tony Bennett doesn’t end up a rock star, I’m predicting a rewarding career in sales. After all, she has me going to Macy’s Black Friday sale months after it ended. Now who could argue with results like that?