the Princess and her Prince

So, about 8 months ago, we borrowed a friend's Princess Tea Party dvd for Davy to watch. And watch it, she did. Maybe one million times. She memorized every song, every outfit, every princess' name and the type of sweet they prefer with their tea. This was the start of a life of royalty in our family. Davy is as much a princess as The Duchess of Cambridge around here and she has the unique trendsetting wardrobe choices to prove it. But that will be another post at another time. Davy lately will only sleep in princess dresses, wear pink princess shoes, and repeat lines from the movie "Cinderella" to me all day long. "YOU ARE THE EVIL STEP MOTHER!" is a common reaction to asking Davy to change out of her dress if it has, oh I don't know, pee or something on it.



She plays princess all day long with anything and everything. Broom? No it's a princess. Broken necklace bead? No, its a tiny princess. Rainboots? Princesses. Cups? Princesses. She walks around our house and with her princess touch, turns everything into a princess in her fantasy land.

"Davy put those cups away right now please." "I can't mom! They are princess and they are goin' to the ball!!!" alrighty then.

Then there are the intense questions. "And what is the Cinderella's daddy's name?" Davy repeatedly asks me the princess' dads names. It took a few weeks before I realized why. And I usually make up ridiculous names. Little did I know. Then I heard her playing by herself and realized that, in her world, the dads were the princes.

Last week the whole fam damily was playing on the driveway and after a while it was time to go in and clean up for dinner. Davy was definitely not thrilled with the idea. She complained. She resisted. She laid on the driveway on her back and closed her eyes. And she was quiet. Not exactly the reaction we expected or understood.

"Davy, what are you doing?"

"Waiting for my prince to come."

We kind of died with cuteness overload at that point. When we finally came back to life. Christopher walked over to her tiny self lying on the driveway with her closed eyes and kissed her back to life. Just like Sleeping Beauty. Just like Snow White. Just like Dramatic Davy. This princess propaganda we are I am feeding our children is just sick. Sickly sweet. At least Daddy is the prince.

Then today as I took her out of her car seat after we arrived home for dinnertime, she asked me if Daddy was coming home soon. She explained, "He is my prince and I am the princess. Daddy is not the king mom. He's my prince. And you are the queen." "Who is Gianna then, Davy?" "Gianna is the king." Then she burst into hysterical giggles.  But then, my heart broke immediately. Her prince wasn't coming home until after she was in bed. And even though she repeatedly asked me, I couldn't flat out tell her. So I let her stay up with me until he did.

So, two hours after her bedtime when we heard the door open she jumped into her Prince Charming's arms and they danced around the kitchen until we put her down for bed.

We'll see if that little real life fairytale was worth it tomorrow when she is melting down from exhaustion before lunch...I say it was.