It’s starting: the inexorable onslaught of Disney-princess-ness. All last week, Sophie constantly wanted to wear her “princess underpants.” I am happy that my little streaker is willingly wearing any underwear, so I am not about to tell her that Tinkerbell is not, technically, as far as I know, a princess. Maybe Tinkerbell was inducted into the princess sisterhood, at some point during my long years of ignoring Disney? They’re not even Sophie’s underpants, really, they’re on loan from her Daycare Teacher, but she is not ready to give them back. She wants all the princess she can get.
Yesterday, Sophie found a princess necklace at the park. Which Disney princess has red hair? Darned if I know. Still, I let her take the pastel plastic flowery necklace home, with the Disney-princess-portrait in the central plastic locket. Sophie kept telling each of her stuffed animals: “I found a necklace at the park and my Mommy says I can take it home!”
I had asked around, way back when the ultrasound told me I was pregnant with a girl, and decided there is no way to fight the princess onslaught.
There are, however, ways to tweak it.
Today, Sophie insisted on wearing that princess necklace around her waist. “It’s my belt-seat,” she said. “I’m rock-climbing. You hold the rope, catch me case I fall?” Then she proceeded to pretend-rock-climb, while I pretended to belay her.
I am so proud. Her princess necklace is now, officially, a fantasy rock-climbing harness.