Moms Talk: So You Think You Have a Princess?

Dear Disney—thanks a lot!

I suppose intitially it was my fault. It was about a year ago when, pregnant with my son, I realized that if I put a DVD in the player when my daughter woke up at 6 a.m. on a Saturday morning, I could snag a bit of a doze on the couch while she watched Sleeping Beauty dance with some forest creatures, or Cinderella's dress being torn to shreds, or Snow White cleaning up after those pesky dwarves.

I'd wake up long enough to respond when she'd ask me a question: "Why does that guy have such big ears?" "Why don't the stepsisters be nicer to their sister?" and tune out again until the next time, while trying to gather enough shut eye to make it through the rest of the day with an overly energetic toddler.

I thought they were safe. Low violence, no swearing or "adult" innuendos, and they were the same movies I grew up on. How could it go wrong?

Then Violet caught "Princessitis."

Four Dresses
It started one morning a few months ago, when she came downstairs and informed me that she wanted to wear a dress to daycare. I didn't think much of it. Then she did it again the next morning. And the morning after that.

She only owned four dresses: one Easter dress I had bought her and three dresses from her grandma, who never had any little girls of her own. I washed, and we cycled through again for the next week. And the one after that.

I started asking her about the girls in her class, and if they wore dresses, too. Until the middle of that year, she'd mainly played with the boys in her class, kids whom she had known since they all entered the center together two years earlier. But there were more girls these days, and I'd noticed her asking me about jewlery, wanting to play with her dolls more, and finally, this obsession with dresses.

But no, they didn't wear them much either, Vi told me.

No, it was the Princesses.

"I can't be a Princess unless I wear a dress," she informed me solemnly. "That's how I look pretty."

Pretty in Tatters
And so it began. I tried valiantly to explain to her that pretty isn't what you wear, and that you can be pretty regardless. I let her know that how she acts is part of what makes her pretty. I even turned to the Princesses, reminding her that Cinderella was pretty even in her torn clothing or cleaning the house, while her stepsisters were always ugly no matter what they wore, because of how mean they were to her.

She thought for a moment, then shook her head.  "Snow White isn't pretty in her rags. She's not a Princess, then."

I sighed. And then, sadly, I gave in.

Now, she wears dresses almost every day. I can only win on the day she has soccer class, a weekly battle to finally get her into a pair of shorts and some tennis shoes. I hide her tiara, only letting her bring it out for special occassions.

She's wearing some of her dresses literally to tatters. I had to inform her that one was for parties only, not everyday wear. Once when she came downstairs after oversleeping, my husband told her, "Hey, you're late to the party!" 

Vi clapped her hands and grinned. "A party? That means I get to wear my party dress!" and ran all the way to her closet.

The Fine Print
I try to be patient. I hope desperately that it's a phase. Meanwhile, I try to take what little advantages there are to being the mother of a Princess. After all, a Princess eats all of her vegetables and never says "I don't like this" with any new food until she's eaten one bite of it, or the castle chef will be offended. Plus, she always goes straight to sleep after she gets her good night kiss, because it takes a lot of rest to be able to rule a kingdom. 

And those make-believe games of Cinderella and the Wicked Stepmother can be really useful when it comes to getting her to help clean up her room.