An open letter to Katy Perry

Dear Katy Perry

A few years ago, my 8 year old decided that you were her life hero / role model of choice.

And I was totally down with that.

Previously, it was Britney, then Miley.

Words can't describe how psyched I am that she chose you.

I did not flinch when she declared her love for you, before adding "Oh and you too Mummy, I love you too".

While silently claiming parental praise for her more mature choice of female role models, I may also have agreed to a number of Katy-Perry-related promises.

Like...

If you eat your broccoli I will take you to see Katy Perry the next time she's in Perth.

I just got off the phone with Katy's people, and they said that she did her homework every day.  So just stop whining and do yours.

If you go to sleep I will organise a meet-and-greet with Katy Perry.

Be nice to the twins and I will let you fist bump Katy Perry because I totally run the internet and make shit like that happen.

Katy Perry learned her mad dance skills from years of karate as a little girl.  So hurry up and put your uniform on.

Katy Perry goes to the same Dentist.  She sat in this very chair.  I swear.

Katy Perry's favourite drink is water mixed with 'Super Greens' powder. Seriously.  Bottoms up and stop gagging.

Katy Perry asked me to tell you that it's time to take the trainer wheels off your bike.

Wear the new school shoes that you hate but cost me a small fortune, and I will let you invite Katy Perry to your birthday party.

Stop licking your sister on the arm or I will tell Katy Perry and she will tell you off.

If you can stay quiet through this shop/show/movie/song/flight/painfully long car ride, I will organise for Katy Perry to come to school as your "Show and Tell" news.

And many, many other such faux promises made while severely parentally stressed and assuming the uber awesome Katy Perry would not be visiting little old Perth again for years. 

Many years.

Enough years for Miss8 to forget my frequent empty promises.

Katy Perry will be in Perth November 7.

So.....ahhh....who knows her third cousin twice removed's former dog walker's best friend's house cleaner's aunt?

Because apparently I have organised for Miss8 to meet Katy Perry.

On or before November 7.

And Miss8's maths skills have miraculously improved to the extent of a daily countdown until P-Day (Perry Day).

Am prepared to sell 1 kidney, dodgy liver, and other non-vital organs on Ebay to make my 8 year old's dreams come true, fostering her idolisation of a decent female role model (in a world of dodgy and inappropriate female role model options), and reinforce her belief that I am the most awesome mother in the world who can make shit happen.

Lest she find out that I am full of shit and false promises.