“Well, really. I didn’t think you were like that.”
I lay in the bath, listening to the sound of my daughter downstairs, admonishing someone.
“You swored. It’s not nice to swore. I thought you were better than that.”
I smiled to myself, wondering which imaginary friend was getting the telling-off. Was it Freya? If so, an invisible, silent girl developing a hitherto previously-unexpressed Anglo-Saxon vocabulary was an interesting development.
“You’re being resp..resp..resp...dis-respect-ful, Jessie J. I’m disappointed in you.”
So it was a pop star who was in trouble. I realised what had happened, and shouted downstairs to my husband to check exactly what our daughter was looking up on YouTube, while I clambered out from my bubble-filled tub.
She’d been trying to watch a video for one of the songs from her Pop Princess compilation CD, but had stumbled across a demo version with fruity language.
“It had the F word, Mum. She doesn’t say that on my CD. It’s rude.”
I agreed. We had a brief chat about looking for “(clean version)” in the title of videos, and avoiding “(explicit lyrics)”, to prevent any further unpleasantness.
“I still want her book, 'Jessie J: Nice To Meet You - My Story', for Christmas, Mum. She doesn’t swore in that.”
I know all about the book. My daughter's been reading a library copy of it OUT LOUD continuously for the past few days.
If Santa brings it, it won't be Jessie who'll be doing the sworing around here.
Video is Calexico - Gypsy's Curse (You didn't really think it was going to be Jessie J, did you?)