Hissy Fit

I almost forgot what I was going to write about until I heard it.again.for the millionth time. Bellowing down the hall, wafting through the family room, making the turn into the kitchen, careening into my library office and settling in my ears were the sounds of Cher; correction.the sound of Cher. Why only one sound? Because my daughter, Jacie, has decided that "Believe" by Cher is her favorite song this summer-and yes, she bought it off of iTunes. She is not interested in any other songs by Cher.only this one. We have no clue where this affinity originated or why. She is only 14-and surely Cher's only fan in that age category.

"Believe" was released exactly 75 days after Jacie was born in 1998. We were living in Florence, SC at the time. I was the Marketing Manager for the daily newspaper. I do vaguely recall driving Jacie to daycare and listening (and singing) to "Believe" in the car. I should have known this crazy, albeit hilarious, summer obsession was my fault. But what I refuse to claim responsibility for is that she has also decided she can sing like Cher, to which I say cover your ears. As most of you know, Cher sings low-she is a contralto-and loud. So does Jacie, except I wouldn't necessarily call it singing. Nonetheless, she has provided us with comedic entertainment-which she finds funny, too-the few weeks she's been home.

(Do you believe. I hear it again?)

I am looking for places for Jacie to go this summer in order to minimize the Cher phenomenon in our house. Basically, I'm sending her on tour. So far, she's spent a week with her grandmother and a week at the beach with her cousins. My Aunt Bet said she could come to Barnwell to stay with her for a week, and Mom said she would like to have her back for a week. What a relief-at least for me! However, they are in for a special treat. You see, Jacie really thinks she sounds like Cher, therefore, she is willing to shout, I mean sing, for others. I have told her that she doesn't sound like Cher. In fact, I've offered to pay for singing lessons on numerous occasions.she "doesn't need them," she says. I have to respect her blind confidence-I mean, don't we all want to sing like no one is listening?

The only problem is we can't help but listen (Oh Lord, I hear it again). I guess the good part is she only sings the one-line chorus. The ironic thing is she just walked in the library and started blaring you guessed it. "Believe" (That means I'm hearing it again.) She is dancing and singing. She is having fun. I am smiling and wincing all at the same time. The wincing is involuntary. It's because she is hitting notes that don't exist in nature unless something is in severe pain. She exclaims, "I love this song! It's my jam!" She has no idea I'm writing this. She asks me why I'm laughing. I simply state, "The irony of it all."

She eyes me and responds, "What irony? Are you writing about me? Did you just write that down? Let me read that." We read it together. She laughs. I laugh. And she breaks out in song, "Do you believe in love after love?" (That's her version).

We laugh again. I love that child.