The Hip Hop Star

So last night at about 5:30 am, after Big had had an unusually restless night, I found myself in a kid-sanguich. One little one to my left squirming with the bud of a new tooth and possibly a cold, one larger one to my right, attempting to squirm on to the bed, tears in her eyes with a bad dream. Believe me, I was on [their last name] overload.

It took a while to get it out of her (and a bribe of some cinnamon-sugar toast with the crusts cut off) but here is some version of a translation:

Me: So, what happened in your dream?

SYO: I'm not telling.

Me: Was it about [Big]?

SYO: I'm not telling.

Me: Was it about me? Mom?

SYO: Well, I guess it was about me.

Me: What happened?

SYO: [MRM#1] and [MRM#2] broke up.

Me: WHAT? That'll never happen!

SYO: How do you know?

Me: Because they just fit together. Like puzzle pieces. Anyway, what did that have to do with you?

SYO: I was really sad!

Me: Yeah. I understand that, but don't worry. They won't break up.

SYO: So, MRM#1's new wife. . .

Me: Wife?

SYO: Yeah. . . His new wife. . .

Me: You know, he probably would not have a wife.

SYO: What?

Me: Yeah, um. [MRM#1] wants to be with a man. That's just who he is.

SYO: Okay, but in my dream, he marries a hip-hop star.

Me, laughing uncontrollably: A HIP-HOP STAR?? [MRM#1] left [MRM#2] for a HIP-HOP STAR??

SYO: Yeah!
ME: Do you know what a "hip-hop star" is?

SYO: Yeah! I'm sort of a hip-hop girl!

She showed up this morning, ready for school wearing her uniform jumper, a short sleeved white shirt (it actually frosted last night in this northern tundra), and black cow-girl boots.

Some hip-hop girl.