There is no Escaping the Fever: A Band Daddy Adventure

 My little girl still wants to be a rock star when she 'grows up'. Or a veterinarian. Sometimes a teacher. It depends on what time of day one poses the question; I ask it fairly often, as Good Daddies should stay firmly planted in the loop. So it was the other day during our fifty seventh round of Whoever Smiles First Loses.

  Her answer was completely out of left field.

 "I wrote a letter." said the child.

  I've been a parent for awhile now, so I remained unfazed. Its OK to answer a question that has nothing at all to do with the one you were asked until at least the age of eight.

 "To who?" I asked, deftly rolling with it.

  "JB" she said, smiling that smile I've come to notice as the one reserved for those older boys who aren't Daddy, that I remind her she shouldn't be talking to.

  And yes, she meant that JB

The Letter

 Generally, I keep my non-fan-ness of things as low key and inoffensive as possible because, you know, not everyone is into kung fu and zombie flicks either. Personal tastes and all that. Besides, thirty something year old guys who play bass in rock bands aren't exactly JB's  target audience, rendering my opinion virtually irrelevant. As always, I thought my poker face impenetrable. At least until I was asked:

"Why'd you do that face Daddy?"

 I used that opportunity to do a little bit of my own answer-an-unrelated-question and we went back to big eyed staring at each other and giggling.

  Truth to be told I was actually very proud of her. My first fan letter went to a band called Devo; I had some very specific ideas about how they could make the hats they wore in the Whip It! video look cooler and I was at least four years older than she. There was no way I could keep my little one just listening to The Beatles and Bob Marley until she got to high school, so her bopping around to something I wish she'd turn the volume down on is just another part of the parenting gig.

   I set the blame for her new found fandom squarely at the feet of my eleven year old niece, who's my encyclopedia for all things hip and tween-aged, but ultimately its totally fine. I figure that Bieber Fever will be just like a regular one. 

  If I wait long enough, it'll just go away.

C