The Pwincess Phase

It's upon us. The Princess Phase. It was all very cute and innocent when she started taking an interest in the Disney Princesses, and of course, we indulged her - we love Disney! But I always told myself we wouldn't call her "princess" or make her believe that the world would treat her like one. We're still 1 for 2.

This girl takes role playing VERY seriously. I have to pay close attention to the way she introduces herself in the morning, because heaven forbid I call her "Minnie Mouse" when she's a "pwincess" that day. She could be a pwincess, she could be Minnie or she could be Millie from Team Umizoomi. And that makes me, by association, pwince (unless Daddy's around), Mickey or Geo. She came in the other morning and told me, "Teagan's a pwincess, Daddy's a pwince." Feeling left out, I asked her what I was. Without skipping a beat, she responded "A dwagon." Ouch. We've had the same conversation several times since and each time she tells me I'm a dwagon. Guess it wasn't a one time thing. But she did clarify the most recent time that I'm a pretty dwagon. A purple one. So there's that.

If her father is around, he plays the prince - which makes sense. But when he's at work, I have to fill the role. But when we try to dance, I'm told that the prince's belly is too big and she decides to wait for her Dad (although she seems to think that he has a baby in his tummy too.) 

She often comes over and bats her eyelashes, clasps her hands together and asks, "Please dance wiv me, Pwince?" I just can't say no.

She favours her pink Cinderella princess dress, but her costumes certainly aren't limited to that. She wears a dress every day lately, regardless of our activities. Sometimes her Minnie Mouse ears double as a crown and sometimes she gets even more creative.

I left Teagan and Daddy alone for 5 minutes and found them both with pairs of Teagan's big girl underwear on their heads as "cwowns". Initiated by Brandon. He's going to have to be the one to tell her where they actually go, because she won't listen to me when I try to tell her. For the next week, she insisted on wearing one of these crowns all day.

Just so I wasn't a complete fuddy duddy, I acquiesced to her request for me to wear a pair. They ended up looking more like a scrub cap than a princess crown, but I look more like a land monster than a human being, so it's probably fitting.

We've upgraded to bloomers in the last little while, and those seem slightly less offensive. And once in a while, they even match. And make me feel like I'm on the set of Newsies.

As long as we're limiting our princess treatment to dancing with princes and wearing pantie crowns and not making demands and ordering us around like servants, I'll be okay with this little phase. At least I hope that's what it is.