Last night Amy stayed up to see her Daddy, and we watched American Idol. She had a few poignant observations, like that Jason Castro "looks like a girl," and for some reason, Chekesie "looks like an angel." Then we got to
David Archuleta, the 17 year old that most teenager girls in America are aspiring to marry. The kid has a great voice, but he's not the best performer, and if he wins it's because every 12 to 17 year old girl in the country snuck the phone to bed with her and hit redial on his number to vote for him as many times as they could until the polls closed.
As soon as that goofy kid got on stage, Amy perked up. "He's a little boy!" was her first surprised observation. As he sang a little longer, she said decidedly, "He's my boyfriend."
AH! I thought I had a few more years until she fell in love with the kid on American Idol. But then she hesitated. "The other guy is my boyfriend," she said. I don't know who this "other guy" is, but she turned her affections back to little David. "He's very cute."
"Is he my boyfriend?" I knew she'd eventually decide the answer to that question in her own little reality, so I didn't bother answering. When he was all done, she said, "He sings really great."
~sigh~ Amy, you're three. Can't you stick with Larry the Cucumber and Pigglywinks a little longer?