One of your favorite afternoon activities at school is dancing. And one of your new favorite albums, much to my chagrin, is the soundtrack to that Oscar-contender, "Alvin and the Chipmunks." (The one with the creepy guy from that Earl show on TV...)
(Side note: from watching the commercials for that stinker, I didn't think it was really appropriate for you to watch... what with one of the chipmunks singing bow-chicka-wow-wow and all. But Grandma, Papa, and your teacher thought differently. Anyway...)
So a couple nights ago, you bust into "Won't you take me to.... FUNKYTOWN????" (Funkytown is on the aforementioned crappy soundtrack.) Daddy and I cracked up. How could we not? Our almost 4 year-old is belting disco in our family room. Then Daddy found Funkytown on iTunes... and we spent the rest of the night dancing and singing. (Which was a blast.)
Fast-forward to today. In the van... on the way home from school.
Molly (in a very sad voice): Mommy?
Me: Yes, Molly...
Molly (in a very sad, pouty voice): What can't we go to Funkytown?
Me: Um, well... I think Funkytown is far away.
Molly: Is Funkytown not in Missouri?
Me: No, sweetie. Funkytown is most definitely not in Missouri.
And scene.
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