My Little Princess

When my now 8 year old niece was younger, she had a big thing for the Disney Princesses. To the point that she had a pink, fluffy marshmallow, Disney Princess birthday party which made me feel a little bit disoriented because EVERYTHING. WAS. PINK.

Even though I played with Barbie dolls growing up, I was adamant that Jordan should not be overly exposed to the Disney Princess/ Barbie genre of toys or paraphenalia. We okay-ed Dora because she spent her time in T-shirt, shorts, a back pack and was always on some adventure or other. And instead of a white horse with a beautiful Palomino mane, she had a trusty monkey named Boots. And I made sure that her clothes, while pretty, did not have the dramatic, frilly flounce to it.

Unfortunately, I cannot dictate that the entire world accede by my expectations. That meant, inadvertently, someone bought her something to do with the Disney Princesses and it caught her attention even though right up to that point, she had played with nothing but androgynous toys which she shared with her brother. And then there was another toy or another something that arrived in a harmless birthday goodie bag and all of a sudden, she wanted princess clothes and underwear!

To make matters worse, I had shown her some videos off Youtube of ballerinas in pretty tutus. So, every morning, she insists on wearing her 'ballet dress' to school and every afternoon and evening after her bath, she rifles through her drawers looking for the perfect dress to 'curtsey' and dance around in.

I'm not sure whether I should stop it or let it run its course. I am more inclined to do the latter although I know that it takes very little encouragement for it to go on and on and on. I watch it unfurl in mock horror while I try and decide on a course of action. Eventually, I decide to let it be for now and sit back and enjoy that my daughter loves to play dress up and that in itself is perfectly normal.

Today, she picked out her own outfit, from hair band to her socks and shoes. Her dress seemed a tad bit short but it didn't seem to bother her. She was tossing the ribbons in her hair and admiring her socks with her pretty Mary Janes that I only allow on Sundays. It was amazing that despite how mismatched everything looked, there was a certain style and flair to it.






















She knows she has decked herself pretty and tells the world by the way she is walking along that she is indeed the Little Princess and her brother who is walking as proper as can be beside her is her long-suffering escort.

Some things are as true in the fantasy, fairy tale world as they are in reality. But whatever it is, playing and looking the part is key.

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