As she hopped into the passenger side of my pick-up, Isy<3, the kid formerly known as “Bella,” pulled out her gleaming, new copy of Miley Cyrus’ CD. 
“I had to super-clean my bedroom at my grandma’s this weekend, so she bought me the new Miley Cyrus. Isn’t that greeeeaaat?”
Ugh. Miley Cyrus, my new Celine Dion. My arch nemesis-of-late. The Bell was really psyched for me to hear it, too.
“I was thinking we could listen to it on the way to camp today…or on the way back if that’s better for you.”
Short by about eight ounces of coffee, I told her, “Ok, sure, but how about we do it on the way back?”
That was good enough, but the conversation was still stuck on Miley: “You know, Mom, for the photo shoot, they gave her three things to work with.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah: a tricycle, a golden microphone, and lots of glitter. Aren’t these pictures amazing? I think they were done so well.”
(The Bell, Isy<3, is apparently listening when Russell talks about photography.)
Annie Leibowitz does Mon-Cyrus
I scanned the booklet. Nothing from the Annie Leibowitz shoot. “So, why did they choose the tricycle?”
“Don’t know, but it works, don’t you think?”
We have about five gazillion records and tapes and CDs and other, other, other (!) for The Bell to peruse, but she just loves this multi-layered, Hannah Mon-cyrus stuff. I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Isobel, tell me something.”
Still glued to the CD booklet, “Yeah?”
“You know, I don’t mind you listening to this music, but I really wish you’d branch out and give other artists a try, too. Can you do that with me some time?”
That’s when she looked up abruptly like I was from Mars, “Mom, I listened to Slayer yesterday.”
Oh. MeTAL. (Rock hands.)
“Wanna listen to that CD now?”
Thats funny. My daughter loves HM, too. And the Jonas Bros. You would think that we taught her nothing. All the kids for that matter. But I guess that I shouldnt whip out Cypress Hill, The Dead Milkmen, Nirvana, Metallica, or the like until they turn 13.