The Princess

We just spent nearly a week at Walt DisneyWorld in Orlando, Florida. Where, I have now learned, all girls, including my nearly 2-year-old, are referred to as "Princess." Which shouldn't surprise me, I guess, except that I didn't hear anyone call my sons "Prince."

My favorite use of "Princess" occurred when she was having an "I'm almost 2-years-old" meltdown at the Magic Kingdom, where Rafiki {proud to say I pulled his name out of my a-- even though I've never seen the movie "The Lion King," we must have him in a storybook somewhere!} just totally freaked her out. As she's screaming "Me! You! Me! You!" -- which is her codephrase for "I hate this! Get me out of here!" or, at home "I hate this! I totally disagree with your authority!" -- the photographers and helpers are saying, "Here, Princess! Would you like a sticker or some pixie dust?"

To which she gave them a serious hairy eyeball, very un-Princess-like, and we stuck her in the stroller for the ride to the hotel. Belle, Jasmine, Cinderella, she is not.

That said, after I gave myself a manicure (this is out of character) before we left, she was caught trying to color her nails with a Sharpie...