On our cruise last December, as her one souvenir, we let our daughter make a Pet At Sea. It’s kind of like Build-A-Bear, only cheaper and cheaper, the stuffing is already sticking to the carpet and there’s a cloud forest under our couch.
There were monkeys, turtles, dogs, bunny rabbits…you name it and they probably had it. What did Babyface choose? A dinosaur. What did she dress the dinosaur in? A pink, princess tutu and a pointy hat with a tassel. Yes, we have a deflated, princess dinosaur in our house and her name is Algae (she came up with that one, all on her own).
She marches to her own pot and wooden spoon. She likes princesses, but she also likes dinosaurs and trains. I’m secretly hoping she wants to be a Paleontologist or an Engineer or even an artist specializing in train-riding dinosaurs. But, a princess? She’ll end up on The Bachelor wearing a rhinestone tiara and some, ugly taffeta number. We’ll be broke from all of the therapy bills and I’ll have to start blogging about The Bachelor, just to defend the little Looney Tune.
It’s like someone injected the idea of princesses into her head, during her sleep. Disney invaded her dreams, even when she could barely speak. Is this a case of never-ending telephone? Some kid liked princesses a hundred years ago and started talking about it and no one ever stopped?
Will I have to have a serious sit down with her at some point to explain that she’s not a real princess? There is no blue in our blood, not even a streak or a random cell. My parents were middle class in India, which is the equivalent of poor here. My husband’s parents spawn from a long line of OSU fans, but aren’t even related to football royalty. The closest she’ll ever get to royalty is standing outside of Buckingham Palace, eating a Royale with Cheese. Or, she could marry into it, but here’s to hoping that’s not her life’s aspiration.
She’s obsessed with Beauty and the Beast. She’s so obsessed that yellow is her favorite color. No, I do not believe this is a coincidence. I believe her love of Belle came before her love of the color.
Yesterday, she became even more delusional, when she asked Daddy if he would marry her. I tried to explain that Daddy is married to Mommy and she is our little girl, like Rapunzel in Tangled. She said, “but Daddy is the Beast.” Her lower lip was extended so far out that I almost handed over my wedding ring.
All of her friends are princess fiends too. They have the usual dress-up parties and fight over which princess they get to be. It’s an epidemic, or maybe it’s just innate. If they could dress up in the womb, they would.
I tried to give into this obsession and find positive, princess stories to veer her from the old school, Prince-Charming-is-your-savior concept. I purchased a slew of books, some good, some decent and one outright ridiculous. On the good side, Princesses Are Not Quitters! It teaches our little ones that even princesses have to lend a hand and work hard. It also teaches them that princesses are not above anyone else. On the decent side, Don’t Kiss the Frog! It’s a book of stories for princesses with attitude. It teaches them to never wait for a prince, there are no standard princess rules and the tiara is optional.
The one I have hidden in my closet is The Paper Bag Princess. The princess manipulates a dragon to get what she wants. Then, the prince dumps her because she’s wearing a paper bag, so she calls him a “bum”. Way to take the high road, princess. It’s somewhat funny for an adult, but this is a children’s book. If I read this to my three-year-old, I would be answering questions for an hour after.
I’m just glad she likes trains and dinosaurs too. There’s still hope. Although, the other day she asked me, “Mommy, what’s a cheerleader?” Let’s just say we’re taking her to Disney World next week. Princess Babyface, it is. And, no, there is no relation to Kenneth Edmonds.