Cinderella Really Did Eat my Daughter

I was listening to NPR a few weeks ago and I heard an interview with Peggy Orenstein. She was motivated to write the book Cinderella Ate My Daughter by her own daughter's conversion to all things princess. Specifically all things Disney princess. I totally could relate to her story. My oldest daughter Chloe was a dinosaur fanatic from ages two through five. She could have cared less about princesses, but she could list off any number of dinosaurs. One of her favorite bedtime reads was a nonfiction book describing all kinds of prehistoric creatures and plants well over half of which I totally made up the pronunciation of. It practically put me to sleep to read it and she would lay there wide eyed totally captivated by it all.

Notice the huge smile over the stuffed dinosaur left in her Easter basket. Imagine my confusion then when her sister wanted nothing to do with dinosaurs, but instead fell in love with of all things... princesses. My kids hardly ever even watch TV and I have never take them to Disney World. Alexa was (just as Peggy's daughter was) introduced through daycare. There seems to be no end to the amount of crowns, fluffy dresses, and wands in her room. And unless they are leggings just try to stuff her in a pair of pants. It isn't happening, nope, not without a major battle. So tonight when she asked me, "Mommy guess what I am?"

I was going to guess some type of royalty. Imagine my surprise when she said, "I am Mary Poppins."

Well now, that just seems a little bit better somehow.