This is a harsh self-own, so I'm just going to come right out with it. I can't listen to Paige "sing" one more "note" of Beyoncé.
It's fucking killing me, my dudes.
Yes, I know she can read (much better than she can sing, fortch), and in theory she could read this post tomorrow. But she doesn't have a phone or ready access to the Internet, and she won't for several more years if I have anything to say about it. (And I do).
Even if Paige finds out tomorrow that I can't stand the sound of her singing Beyoncé, I'm okay with that, because I'm not one of those mothers who just blows sunshine up my kids' asses and tells them they're great at everything and can do anything.
They're not, and they can't, and if it's one thing I want them to know it's this:
Everyone has their limitations, and it's best to accept yours sooner rather than later, so that you don't waste your time "chasing your dreams." Why would you chase your dreams when you could much more efficiently--and with less long term misery and more dignity--just walk in lockstep with reality?
Chasing your dreams is a fucking waste of time, m'kay?
In Paige's case, the reality is that she's probably not going to be a singer; professional, amateur, or karaoke. I don't want to say never, but I'd think the chance of Paige becoming a singer lies somewhere along the spectrum between Donald Trump becoming "presidential" and me getting a full-time gig as a Victoria's Secret Angel to pay for my Stanford medical school tuition next year.
The fact that Paige has chosen Beyoncé, of all singers, to emulate only makes the gulf between these two people's respective vocal skills seem that much more cavernous.
Like when you listen to Beyoncé sing "Halo," it sounds like an actual angel has descended from heaven, opened her mouth, and let sparkly butterflies and maple syrup-dipped sugar cookies come pouring out.
When Paige sings "Halo," it sounds like a hummingbird who's just undergone adenoid surgery flew into a plate-glass window and is warbling for help while a leaf blower whines in the background.
I hate to be the one to tell you this, kid. You can follow your dreams if you want to, but if you dream about becoming the next Queen Bey, dollars to donuts you'll be following that dream straight off a cliff.