Blighted Dreams

Mini-Diva was telling me this morning on our way to achool that she really wanted to be on The X-Factor; she is in the middle of writing a really good song, and she wants to go on it and win all the money.

As a career choice, this is not what I want for her, for several boringly sensible parental reasons - although I troubled her with none of them. I pointed out that songwriters can earn lots of money by just writing the songs, but she answered that she would earn more if she also sang them. Backed into a corner, I unwillingly had to tell her that although I love her singing, that she is not good enough.

She looked, and I felt, like I had just told her that the Tooth Fairy had just stabbed Santa to death and left the dismembered, bloody remains as compost in a clump of stinging nettles. She shouted at me that I had 'killed her hope' which of course, was a delicious twist of the knife in my soul.

Destructo Boy chimed in, helpfully suggesting that she could be one of those Runway Fashion Girls instead. Again, not the career one would wish for a sensitive, imaginative child, although I think she will have the height. I could get on a major soapbox here about role models, expectations, body image of young children etc but I won't. You can thank me later.

My beautiful daughter has many talents, but singing is not one of them; she cannot carry a tune in a bucket. We find it endearing, but the X Factor ? Not so much. I have told her that her Magic is not singing, we just have to find what her Magic is. I have a pretty good idea what her Magic is, actually, but by that time we had reached school, and I breathed a big sigh of relief.

In Cat News, today Jewel the rescue cat came towards me with a raised poker-straight tail, and brushed against my leg twice on purpose on her way through the door. It warmed my poor, child-wrenched heart indeed.