Free Miles to Go by Miley Cyrus Page A

I asked if we could do her makeup, and proceeded to paint her like a clown. We gave her bright pink circles on her cheeks and outlined a huge blue mouth. To this day she won’t let me forget it. If I ever ask to put makeup on her, she says, “You’re gonna make me look like a clown!” and refuses.
    Noah wants her room to be like Noah’s Ark. She’s got a huge stuffed giraffe in one corner and a huge stuffed horse in another. She has fish, birds, and a dog. Noah wants as many animals around her as possible. That’s what she and I (and our mom) have most in common. Nobody loves animals as much as we do.
    Last year my mom and dad and Brandi went to a concert, and I stayed home to babysit Noah. As soon as they left, Noah said, “You’re the fun one. I want to do something really fun.” Who was I to argue? So I got out a big bowl and dumped in maple syrup, Coke, ice cream, whipped cream, some waffles, and sprinkles on the top. I gave Noah a spoon and said, “Let’s see how much sugar we can get into you.” She ate until she felt like she was going to throw up.
    Then, to give her digestive tract a little time to recover, I decided to indulge her senses with a gentle and soothing spa treatment. I concocted a special custom facial for her out of eggs, honey, bananas, and . . . pretty much anything else I could think of. When my parents walked in the door, my mom said, “What’s that smell?” The kitchen was a mess. There was food everywhere. And Mom was right, it didn’t smell quite right. But in the morning, the first thing Noah did was put her hands to her cheeks and say, “My pores are so clean! My skin is baby soft.” I was like, “That’s because you are a baby.” I am so glad I still get to experience moments like those. I would hate to miss them.
    My older siblings are out of the house now, but they’re still around a lot, and when they are I drop everything (except school and work) to spend time with them. Brandi is the angel of the family. She’s the most honest and trustworthy person you’ll ever meet. I mean, she’s edgy—but she’s also a really good girl. Trace is the carefree one. He doesn’t worry what anybody thinks of him. Trace is super rock ’n’ roll—I love his band, Metro Station. If I had to categorize our family, I’d say he’s the one who’s the most like me. Or, I guess I’m most like him, since he’s the older one.
    Now that I’m so busy I’m very aware of exactly how much time I have with my family. I want to make sure I make the most of it. It’s not like we sat down and made rules like “Everyone has to be home for Tuesday pot roast dinner” or “Nobody talks on their cell phones in the living room.” Our house is a loud, busy place with family and friends and animals coming and going. But, just like most people, we try to keep the stress—and definitely the work—out of the house. At home, I’m not a celebrity. Everyone still knows my name, but instead of chanting it at a show, they’re shouting up the stairs for me to get my dirty laundry. At home, I’m just someone who has a job sooner than most kids do. The nice thing about our family is that everything I’m doing now is all stuff my dad has done for so long that when I started doing it, nobody paid much attention.

Homebodies
     
    M y dad has to travel for work, but when it comes down to it, both my parents are homebodies. Maybe that’s why they get along so well. When my dad was touring with his mega-hit song, “Achy Breaky Heart,” my mom stayed home with the kids. Dad was gone a lot, but even when he was home for as long as six months, my parents never went out on group dinner dates or had parties; they never entertained celebrities or schmoozed. They liked to be with each other and us.
    I’m pretty much the same way. I like going to small parties and over to friends’ houses, like ten people hanging out, maybe going for a swim. I’m always careful because of my heart. I guess my idea of a