“I want to be a princess when I get big,” Edie says with her mind made up.
“A princess? Really?” I’ve never liked how little girls (particularly mine) are inundated with all the princess stuff these days, but it’s pretty much impossible to escape. “Why a princess?”
“Because they get to wear pretty dresses.”
“You’re right they do, but I’m not sure princess is a good goal for you.” Even though I’ve always told her that she can be anything she wants to be, I’m really thinking we’ve got to nip this princess thing in the bud, and now is as good a time as any to start.
“Are princesses real or pretend?”
“Well, there are real princesses in the world, but American little girls don’t really grow up to be real princesses. That’s really in other countries.”
“But I could be one, right?”
“Not really, honey, and besides wouldn’t you rather grow up to be maybe a teacher, or a mommy, or a doctor? Those are all good things to be.”
“Nah, they have too work to hard.”
Well, she got’s me there.
So the next morning, after I’d just pulled myself out of the bed and shuffled into the kitchen, barely awake, Edie stands in the doorway bright eyed. “Mommy, I was thinking about it last night, and I’ve decided that I don’t want to be a princess when I grow up…instead, I want to be an artist.”
I thought to myself, “Well, that’s a little better than princess.”
“What made you decide that?”
“I was thinking about princesses, and well…princesses have to clean up after everybody ALOT.”
I thought, “Well, then mark being a mommy off your list as well.”
