Let it...Go?

Okay, okay. I get it. Parents are up to their eyeballs in Frozen. They're over it, but unfortunately their little ones are not. I've had conversations with other moms that go a lot like this:

Other Mom: "So how many times have you seen Frozen?"

Me: "Probably about 20 times."

Other Mom: "That's it? I've seen it 20 times too....This week."

I, on the other hand, am digging the Frozen phenomenon for one simple reason. Sure, I can recite every line and of course, I'd rather be watching bad reality television rather than listening to Anna lament her relationship with her sister (again), but Frozen has brought out something adorable in the tiny terrorist.

Turns out, the girl loves to sing. And it's adorable.

The first time I heard her singing Let it Go, I wasn't sure that was exactly what she was doing. I caught it on video so that I could run it by a few other judges for a ruling.

My husband wasn't convinced. But as the weeks went on, she became more and more animated. The way her face lights up when I play a song from the movie could thaw a Frozen heart. (See what I did there?) She now can belt out a rendition of Do You Want to Build a Snowman that is quite impressive if I do say so myself.

I get it. There is a major Frozen overkill. But I don't know if I can ever let it go when it comes to this adorable singing voice.

Ramblin' Fever

Ah, the Great Outdoors. The melodic sounds of birds chirping, ocean waves crashing, wind whispering through the trees, and the air punctuated by the shrill shrieks of a tiny toddler in the throes of a temper tantrum. As the record scratches and the music abruptly comes to a halt, the overwhelming beauty of the nature hike we were just enjoying blurs into the background as my tiny terrorist planks in the middle of the trail demanding that the we stop immediately and prove that once again, the world does in fact revolve around her. Goldfish crackers are frantically yanked out of a perpetually cluttered diaper bag, soothing shushing noises escape from adult mouths as if that might make a difference, heads swivel back and forth scanning to see who is noticing this debacle and desperately hoping not to overhear the disapproving clucks of fellow hikers. Just another day in paradise, baby.

I'm starting to get that rambling fever that creeps up every now and again. The palpable urge hits me to pack up the truck and drive across stretches of open highway for days on end Thelma and Louise style, blasting Tom Petty and getting into the kind of trouble you just don't find when caring for a tiny human. The only thing I want in my face is the sunshine. Who cares where the road leads me as long as it never ends. As long as the sound of silence remains uninterrupted by the incessant voice of Mickey the damn Mouse.

Just as I have mentally made it past the California state line, just as I begin to almost hear the first few chords of Free Fallin', just as I have escaped into a daydream so blissful I can almost taste the sweet fruit of freedom...

My tiny toddler picks herself up off the dusty trail, looks around at the wonder of the world completely unimpressed, flashes an unapologetic smile, and whips those pigtails around as she runs off.

As I chase her down the trail to save her from the impending danger of her adventurous spirit, it occurs to me - She has that rambling fever. The only thing she wants in her face is the sunshine. Who cares where the road leads her as long as it never ends. She is going to find the kind of trouble only a tiny toddler terrorist can discover. She will not live in a world without Mickey. Thelma and Louise have nothing on the Outlaw Bugsy Malone. And seriously how old am I? She couldn't care less about Tom Petty. Let it Go, she'd rather Build a Snowman.

So I am once again reminded that when I get that rambling fever, I'm going to have a sidekick along for the ride. We will find the kind of trouble that only a mother and daughter can. And oh sweet sunshine, I hope this road never ends.