Since moving to Georgia and until recently, if you asked my daughter what she wants to do when she grows up, she would answer "I wanna be a docta cheerleada!" Meaning she wants to be both a doctor and a cheerleader. I don't know where she learned about cheer-leading, but I swear the moment we entered the South she was somehow indoctrinated. I have tried to explain to her that while some people do earn a little money cheer-leading that I wouldn't exactly call it a profession. She is undaunted.
Her goals have recently changed though, as children are want to do. My friend recently sent me a cd of Madonna's Confessions on the Dance Floor. After listening to it and perusing the jewel case, my daughter announced, "Mama, when I grow up I wanna be Madonna!"
While some people may have found this news disturbing my response was, "Me too baby, me too!"
"But you already are growed!" she stated the obvious.
Upon reflection I tell her, "Honey, I don't actually want to be Madonna, cause that would mean I wouldn't be your mama."
"I know, I know mama! You can wait until I am big and I no longer need to be taken care of, then you can be Madonna!"
"Thank you honey, that is so sweet of you to not want to stand in the way of my dreams."
When sharing this story with my Southern co-workers, some gasped in what I can only describe as horror. They don't understand that my feminist sensibilities allow me to simultaneously reject my daughter's desires to be a cheerleader while embracing the idea of her choice to grow up to be Madonna.
She now goes to sleep each night with Confessions on a Dance Floor playing quietly in the background. I tell her that it is not really good sleepy time music, but she insists, declaring with moony eyes, "But, I LUUUUUV Madonna!" I read in the paper today that Madonna has directed her first film. Now if Madonna would just add doctor to her resume.