Chloe informed me the other day that her friends at school are forming a band. She was offered a role as back-up singer, but declined to take the job because she wouldn’t get to sing that much (which is just as well, since her singing talent is about on par with mine. And I can’t carry a tune.).

When I asked her if she was going to participate, she proudly replied that she was the Assistant Manager. That made me laugh. Because when I was a kid, not much older than Chloe is now, I once participated in the class play. I turned down a role (actually, if I’m being honest, I probably wasn’t offered a part) in the Princess and the Pea, or some other similar fairy tale adaptation, in order to serve as the producer, which I thought sounded like a really cool and powerful position. Of course, I didn’t end up doing much of anything except collect stage props, and when I got older, I realized that that’s what producers in real life do – not much of anything. But Chloe doesn’t need to know that at her tender age.

When I told her that as Assistant Manager she’d have to book gigs for the band and sign record deals, she was all smiles. Then I asked her if the band had a song. Apparently one of her friends wrote a song. A “pretty bad” song, accordingly to my wise daughter, about a girl breaking up with her boyfriend. Keep in mind that these are 7-year olds. She giggled, a bit embarrassed, as she explained the gist of the tune to me. Which provided some consolation, because I would have been extremely concerned if she was all serious about it. Unfortunately, she doesn’t remember the words, so I don’t yet know how bad it really is. But if Chloe says it’s bad, it must be really awful. I can’t wait to hear it.