The confidence of a child

Last Sunday morning, as I was getting ready for Easter services at my church, I left my daughter, Tessa, in our bedroom playing with her new toys she had received from the Easter bunny.

When I turned off the shower, I heard her singing at the top of her lungs, "Stupid, old pick-up truck you never let me drive ..."

She loves Taylor Swift, and even though she's only five, she's memorized the words to almost every song the teen favorite sings.

I have to admit I wish she would pick another favorite, just so I don't have to listen to "Picture to Burn" and "Should've Said No" one more time. It was just like when she was a toddler and wanted to hear "Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus" a hundred times a night.

It was a cute book, and Taylor Swift's songs are good, but enough is enough.

Every Friday night my family goes out to eat. When I say "family," I don't mean my husband, daughter, and I. I'm including extended family, like half a dozen aunts, uncles and cousins. Most places have to put two or three tables together just so we can all sit close to each other. We started this tradition when my granny passed away in 2007, just so our family wouldn't drift apart.

One of our favorite places to go is a little restaurant in Unionville, because they have karaoke every Friday night. They also have a dance floor, and we can let the kids go and dance while we sit, talk, eat and watch them boogie to the songs being sung.

The first time we went, Tessa pulled on my sleeve and said, "Momma, I want to sing. I want to sing Our Song."

I knew what she meant by "Our Song," but my family and the people organizing the karaoke didn't. What followed was reminiscent of "Who's on First" by Abbott and Costello.

"She wants to sing 'Our Song,'" I told them.

"What is your song?" They asked.

And, on it went until I finally said, "Our Song by Taylor Swift."

Then, when we went back to the table, my aunt asked, "What's she wanting to sing?"

You know the inevitable question that arose from that.

They didn't have any Taylor Swift that night, so she sang "The Lion Sleeps Tonight," along with my five-year-old nephew Luke.

Since then, she's performed several times, including a rendition of "Walking After Midnight."

Luke has also performed several times, including his version of the Rascal Flatt's song "Life is a Highway."

She stands on stage, barely able to read the words on the screen (what do you expect from a kindergartner?) and sings what she knows, all the while shaking her little hips to the beat of the song. The faster the song, the faster she moves.

Tessa doesn't care if she makes a mistake with the words, if her face is dirty or her hair is a mess. She doesn't care if gets out of step while dancing. She just wants to sing the songs she loves and dance a little dance while she's doing it.

When it's over, her little face just glows from the applause she receives from the audience, but she wouldn't care if they didn't clap. She would still think she did well because she was doing something she loved.

Wouldn't it be nice if we all were able to do the things we love with the sheer and utter confidence we won't fail? I hope she's able to hold on to that confidence for the rest of her life.

--Tamara Belinc is a staff writer for the Times-Gazette. She can be reached by e-mail at tambelinc@gmail.com.