The Least Sucky Princess

Yes, I know. I have blogged about this before. But still..it just has to be said. Currently we are in Stage 2 of princess-ness and I have to think we are almost done with them. Right? Uh...right?


Note: this does not mean that I in any way prevent her from experiencing princesses as she sees fit. Meaning we have the books, the dolls, the clothes, the music. If this is what she really loves....then she deserves to experience it.

But.

Since I have been reading lots of princess books lately...let me just say, most of them suck and don't teach such great lessons. Arielle saves Prince Eric from drowning. However, she then has to give up her voice in order to win him. So she just does it based on her beauty and...well, her beauty. Next!

Snow White, as everyone knows, is a total doormat and really not so bright. First she lets some hunter lead her off into the woods and leave her there. Then she decides to become the housekeeper for seven slovenly men. And then she takes an apple from an old witch. Come on, sister! No brains in that pretty little head of yours? But it all works out because a prince falls in love with her beauty and wakes her up. Snow White, you suck.

Now, let's talk about Belle, aka Beauty and the Beast. Yeah, yeah...Disney makes a big deal about how she reads books. But she still winds up having to cater to this Beast who doesn't treat her so well. Yet she falls in love with him. And then he becomes a handsome prince. This fairy tale caters especially to smart women who love the wrong guys and think they can change them. Belle, you suck, too.

Cinderella is another doormat who lives with mice, cleans for some ungrateful, boorish relatives and then miraculously, finds a fairy godmother who makes her pretty enough to go to a ball and win a man's heart. My take? Cinderella is depressed and therefore delusional about the situation and imagines the whole thing.

And we won't even talk about Sleeping Beauty, who basically sleeps through her whole story.

Supposedly, Disney is trying to create a new princess named Tiana. Tiana is Disney's first African-American princess. They promise that Tiana will be strong and independent and not looking for anyone to help her. Though presently, if you click on the Disney Princess website...which I do more often than I care to admit...Tiana doesn't speak. All of the other animated princesses have a whole conversation with you. Tiana, thus far, just sits there smiling. So I'll believe it when I see it.

And by the way, books about feminist princesses still suck because they are trying too hard.

I've heard the next girl stage is fairies. Which I'm looking forward to. Since fairies control their own destinies. Provided no one mistakes them for say, a mosquito.

New Bachelor!

Apparently,there is one. But ABC won't announce it until October 13th on Dancing with the Stars. Damn them!

Which means you'll have to watch "stars" like Tom DeLay attempt to tango in order to find out the scoop. Oh ABC, why must you punish us so....

Just keeping you in the loop.

Who says kids don't notice advertising?

So our girl got sick her first full week of school. Not terribly surprising though still a bummer. Just a little cold and fever. And upset tummy.

I ran out and bought some soup. The brand shall remain nameless but I used to work on it. Specifically, the exact type of soup that I purchased.

A. inspected the can carefully. I asked her if she wanted some.

A: No! Because the boy turned gray.

Me: What?

A: The boy ate the soup and turned gray. I don't want to be gray.

Me: What are you talking about?

A. points at the can of soup. There is a black and white cartoon drawing of a boy on it. Technically, I guess you could call him gray but he's really black and white. This is beside the point.

The funny part is, the boy is part of a campaign I was responsible for. The campaign is no longer running and A. was most certainly not the target market. Still, it was a little startling to realize how literal a three-year-old could be.

Me: You won't turn gray. It's just like a picture. You know. Like in a book. Just pretend.

She wasn't buying it.

By the end of the day, she felt better. But she insisted on chicken fingers for dinner. And since it's the first food she requested in about three days, that's what she had. We'll save the advertising lesson for another day.

How you know it's time to get out of the city

Not for good, of course, since I have a fear of the suburbs. One I will have to get over eventually but not any time soon.

So we decided to go away for a few days last week. Mostly because we had never done it before, just husband, A and myself. Unless you count visiting relatives, which is not the same as staying in a hotel together.

First sign it was time to get out of the city? A says "is this car service?" I say, "no, honey...your daddy's driving." This is very funny news to her. She says "my daddy's a driver."

After a slightly minor melt-down in the car, she fell asleep. All seemed well when we arrived at the hotel. She thought it was very cool place to be, complete with a "special bed." And even more special, real phones.

"Mama, what's this?"

"It's a phone."

She eyed the large black box suspiciously but picked up the receiver. "I need to call someone."

And so we let her. Seemed like a great way to occupy her until the phone actually rang.

"This is the front desk. Someone called 911?"

"Ugh...really?"

"Yes."

"It was probably our daughter. Sorry about that."

"Well, the police might come. We'll call them but if they are on their way..."

We unplug the phone.

Then we go to the aquarium. A fun time is had by all. She touches rays, crabs, birds, etc. We swim. We eat a lot of fried things and ice cream. A swims in a pool. We go to a beach where we are basically the only ones there. We go on a few boat rides up and down the Mystic River. We decide Mystic Seaport (the attraction itself) is like Epcot...good idea in theory, not so much in execution. Cute town. Seaport, eh.

And we go to Target because we love it there and could possibly live in one forever, given the chance.

On the way home, A. says "I like our car."

"We're giving it back."

And she looks at it sadly but only for a minute.

"Can I ride the train tomorrow?"

Why This Isn't Pretty

By this, I mean...this. My bloggy blog.

Yes, I know it could look better. It could have a nicer layout. Be better organized. Include pictures, even.

Overall the whole thing could be more appetizing. I say this because I work in advertising. So I know the importance of appealing to people's visual sensibilities, even if they claim not to have any.

But. I. Don't. Care.

Unlike most things in the world, this bloggy blog is about words. And that's it.

And yes, I know that presenting this to the world in this fashion may be the equivalent of walking out of the house without my undereye cover-up and lipgloss on but ya know? Whatever.

You're reading this, right? Can't be that bad.

And since The Bachelor is on hiatus until January...chances are you'll be hearing mostly about me for the next six months.

It'll be fun. But it won't be pretty.