In today’s episode of Keeping Up With the Cyruses, it appears the family feud between Noah Cyrus and her mom, Tish, has melted away faster than a popsicle on a Tennessee sidewalk. And how did this emotional healing take place, you ask?
They became neighbors.
Yep. That’s right. Forget therapy, deep conversations, or writing heartfelt letters—just move next door and BOOM: mother-daughter reunion unlocked. Tish, the 57-year-old matriarch of the Cyrus chaos crew, spilled all the tea on the “Sorry We’re Cyrus” podcast. And let’s just say, it sounds like things have gone from frosty to froyo with sprinkles.
“Noah moved this year. That’s been so good for us,” Tish announced, which is mom-code for “I can now show up at her house uninvited and passive-aggressively rearrange her throw pillows.”
She continued: “Being able to go on our walks and we found our new favorite ice cream truck.”
Aww. Nothing says “I forgive you for possibly dating my now-husband” like walking in matching athleisure and chasing down a janky ice cream van that plays the same 8-bit tune on a loop.
Speaking of emotionally complex topics, Tish took a moment to publicly give her seal of approval to Noah’s fiancé, the fashion designer named Pinkus. (Yes, that’s his name. No, we didn’t make it up. Yes, it sounds like a Pokémon.)
“I love him so much,” she gushed. “Honestly… he is a man.”
(Which—PLOT TWIST—was not a given, apparently?)
She continued, “He’s so respectful and driven and sweet. Honestly I think he is perfect.”
Translation: “He hasn’t caused any headlines, hasn’t stolen my spotlight, and he makes Noah smile. 10/10, would future-son-in-law again.”
But wait—what about the alleged Cyrus Civil War of 2023? Ah yes, the feud that launched a thousand subtweets. In case you missed it (or blinked), there were strong rumors that Noah skipped Tish’s wedding to actor Dominic Purcell because—and hold onto your lace front—she was allegedly seeing him first.
Yes. The math isn’t mathing, but the drama is drama-ing. Imagine your mom marrying your maybe-ex. Thanksgiving that year must’ve been a PowerPoint presentation of awkward silences and polite nods.
Anyway, it seems all is forgiven. Possibly forgotten. Definitely neighborly.
So here’s to healing, haute couture boyfriends, and the unifying power of soft serve.
