Last night we surprised our daughter with Hanna Montana tickets. It was an early birthday present that we thought she would love. For anyone without a pre-teen daughter, Hanna’s real name is Miley Cyrus…as in Billy Ray’s daughter. Now, if you had asked me ten years ago if I would ever go to a concert with the name Cyrus on the ticket, I would’ve told you absolutely not. As a matter of fact, when my husband and I got married back in 1997, we specifically told the DJ that Achy Breaky Heart was NOT to be played.

But, our daughter LOVES this Cyrus kid. So we were pretty surprised with she opened her present and just sat there and smiled. No yelling? No jumping? No bouncing off the walls? WHAT? Because, when I wasn’t much older than her and I got Jack Wagner tickets…well, I was a mini-maniac. And, when he touched my hand at the concert...sigh...I vowed to never wash it again.

But, our kid was calm and we just sat there looking at her, asking if she was happy. Prodding her to at least pretend to be thrilled. I gotta tell you, I was a bit disappointed.

When I took a phone call a couple of minutes later, she was still just sitting there. But, slowly it hit her, and I looked over to see her eyes welling up with tears. Then she took a pillow, put it over her face and screamed. Soon she was jumping around the room, giving me and her Dad alternating hugs, with, “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” in between. She ran upstairs, tried on an outfit for the concert, then hugged her Hanna Montana poster.

What a relief that was. I can’t tell you how happy I was to see her acting like a hysterical fool.

Labels: Family Life, Kids