Owning it.

I fully endorse dance parties. Dance parties where you’re standing in your living room, firmly gripping a wooden spoon that happens to be doubling as a microphone, and singing so off-key your five pound farm dog looks at you like you’re a crazy person.

Also, I fully endorse sentences that make you stop and gasp for air. You’re welcome.

Because of my love for such dance parties, my eyes lit up like my birthday morning at a certain concert last week. What concert? Coldplay, of course.

Goodness gracious I’m staring to sound like a spoiled brat with all these evenings at the beach and nights with really, really good concert tickets.

Someone is giving me every right to claim my title as a princess. And, I’m owning it.