Two going on Thirteen

My girls are super-excited about singing and dancing these days.  They loved "dancing" with the big kids at Vacation Bible School and even got up in front of the crowd at church last Sunday to perform with the other children.  We have also been watching The Wizard of Oz and other shows/movies with lots of music. 

Of course, like any good music-lovin' mama, I encourage my babies to sing and dance their little hearts out.  I sing their favorite songs so they can show off their dance moves, and I encourage them to wail out Somewhere Over the Rainbow, even though it currently only consists of "soooommmmeeerrrr overrrr booowww " over and over.  It's accompanied by the cutest little dramatic arm movements, which is just adorable.

But last week, the inevitable happened.  We were riding in the car, singing along to one of the kids' song CDs, when Mackenzie suddenly stopped and commanded me, "Stop singing, Mama!" 

Excuse me, what?! 

At first I laughed, sure that she was just being silly.  A few bars later, she said it again, more loudly this time:  "Stop singing, Mama!"

I pretended to be hurt, but I immediately called Jeremy to laugh with him about it.  I am by no means a good singer, but surely that can't matter to my two-year-old.  At least I get the words right, which is more than I can say for her (or her father, for that matter).

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A few nights later, the girls and I were watching The Wizard of Oz before bedtime.  I, of course, was joining them in singing along to our favorite songs.  We had reached a point in the munchkin song when A & M felt the urge to jump up off the couch and perform along with the characters on tv.  I was laughing and singing along with them, when Mackenzie stopped, turned to look at me, and sternly said, "Don't sing it, Mama".  I tried again and was quickly admonished by both my children. 

Point taken, girls.  I will now ask politely if I can join in your singing and dancing fun.  I would hate to offend you, after all.

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As many parents do, I'm sure, I spend a good deal of time trying to imagine what Addison and Mackenzie might be like in the future.  I wonder if they will like to play dress-up and princess or if they will prefer to be outside riding bicycles and playing in the dirt.  I wonder if they will love reading and school like I did, or if they will tolerate classes just to get to see their friends and participate in sports like their daddy did.  I wonder if they will be each other's best friend or if they will begin to prefer the company of others more often.

(For the record, any of those options will be fine with me.  I want my girls to know that they are free to be whoever they want to be, and that I will love them the same, no matter what!)

I also sometimes imagine, and yes, expect, that there will probably come a point in time when my girls don't think their mama is the greatest thing in the world.  They will not always want to hug and kiss me in public; they won't want me to run and pick them up when they fall, smothering their faces with kisses; and they won't always want to copy my every move.  I am prepared for the notion that one day, my girls will find me extremely uncool and maybe even embarrassing and annoying.

However, I am NOT ready for that time to come at age TWO.