When she first came to us, people would say “Is it so fun having a girl in the house and getting to do her hair?!” and I would want to emphatically ask them if they were CRAZY.  Doing her hair easily ranked near the top of my ‘Most Frustrating Times of the Day’ list.  Doing Her Hair meant hearing her repeatedly shout “ow” while I brushed as carefully and gently as I could.  It meant having her wiggle and turn her head every which way constantly while I tried to braid and clip and create some semblance of order in all the uneven craziness, and often, it meant having her study the results, decide against what I had painstakingly done, stick her fingers in her hair and violently undo it all.  Of course this usually happened when we were just moments from needing to head out the door, and I would stare at her and try not to swear or sob or just go back to bed and give up on the day.  Later I would sit at the computer with her and look at Pinterest pictures of little girls’ hairstyles, hoping something would inspire her.  She would turn her nose up at each and every picture.  So NO.  It was a nice idea, getting to do a little girl’s hair.  The reality made me want to rip my own hair out.

There were many things like that–activities I had imagined being fun to do with a girl, but just weren’t.  A lot of those things have improved, to the point that they are downright neutral or even pleasant experiences now.  SOME things, however, are awesome.  Friday mornings, for instance.  Friday mornings are the best.  I make chocolate chip pancakes for the kids every Friday morning.  (Just last week my oldest said “We sure have chocolate chip pancakes on lots of Fridays” and I said “We have them EVERY Friday!  Are you just now realizing this?!”)  And while I flip those flapjacks, Todd turns on “Friday” by Rebecca Black just about as loud as it will go, and an epic, Friday morning dance party ensues.  Our littlest guy loves this.  Todd and I love this.  Our girl LOVES this.  Our older two boys absolutely hate it, which is both irritating and kind of hilarious, watching them sit there like they’re in pain while the rest of us go nuts.  But really, how can your Friday be bad when it starts out like that??

And Friday mornings are not the only time this magic happens.  (It’s the only time the Rebecca Black magic happens, though.  I mean, you can really only listen to that song when it’s Friday, Friday, gettin’ down on Friday…)  This girl does not discriminate based on time-of-day and day-of-week.  If I’m in the kitchen and I turn the music on, she comes in and dances.  I love it.

The funny thing about the Rebecca Black thing is that our girl doesn’t get that it’s a joke.  She doesn’t know that behind my smiling, dancing self, I’m thinking about how much I hate that song.  And in that moment, I don’t think I DO hate it.  Because I watch her loving it, and loving the tradition of it, and it gives that ridiculous song value.  It’s so great how children just love what they love, without caring about whether it’s cool or of the highest quality, and we–as parents (or foster parents)–find ourselves loving the same things, just because they do.

In case you’ve missed having this little gem constantly stuck in your head, here it is.  Happy Friday!