Late in 2012, my then 4-year-old daughter identified with a new Disney princess, leaving all of the other princesses in her wake.
I mean, they’re basically twins with their red-hair, free spirits, and over-bearing mothers.
Yesterday, as I attempted to switch over the summer wardrobe for the fall/winter wardrobe, I asked my red-headed little princess to try on two pairs of jeans and she pitched the biggest fit – like, thrashing around on the floor, totally losing it over the jeans because she was working on a 200 piece puzzle and couldn’t spare the two minutes.
She fled to her room where she ventured three years into the past and found herself feeling like her kindred princess all over again.
“UGH, YOU’RE JUST LIKE ELEANOR! I’m trying to do what I want to do and you’re just talking all rude and making me do something that I really don’t want to do!”
I’ll be real, it’s been so long that princess lingo has been used in this house that I was mostly all “Wait, is there a Star Wars character that I don’t know about?”
But no. She meant Merida’s mom. Merida, the red-headed, free-spirit. Merida, who’s just trying to put together a 200 piece puzzle while her mom is trying to turn her into a proper princess and marry her off to some weirdo who sucks at archery.