My daughter has a blonde wig (to go with the pink and green ones her Aunt gave her) that she likes to wear and say she is Hannah Montana. We don’t watch Hannah Montana at home, so I don’t know where she gets it.
Oh, wait, maybe I do.
Anyhow, it was hi-larious when I put the wig on her nice, wooden rocking horse and called it something like “Horse-y Montana” (hey, you don’t have to have your “A” material for 3 1/2 year olds).
We were talking about this at bedtime last night. My daughter said something about the cat being, “smi… smile… smiley…”
“Miley Cyrus?” I suggested.
“Yeah!” my daughter exclaimed, “Miley-saurus!”
I guess when my daughter is my age, Miley will be a dinosaur. But that’s okay, because by then, Miley’s kid’ll be raking in the dough…