From the moment the Peanut emerged into the world and surprised me by not being a boy, as I'd imagined for nine months, I vowed that she would be raised in a steadfastly feminist household. There was to be no foolishness with this Disney Princess crap. No Barbie unrealistic-body-image nonsense. By God, this kid would learn that there ain't going to be no knight riding in on a white horse. I was going to raise a strong woman who would love herself for who she is. Who wouldn't waste a minute putting her happiness in the hands of men, instead of deciding that, boyfriend or no boyfriend, she's going to be happy. On her own terms.
I still fervently hope to raise that strong woman. But in the meantime, to my horror, I fear there are going to be princesses afoot in my house.
This is because of what happened at our neighbor's daughter's 2nd birthday party this weekend. At the very end of the gift opening, the birthday girl received a dress-up set with a poofy, lacy, pink skirt and a tiara. She smiled with glee as she modeled her new outfit for her guests. I sat on the floor next to the Peanut and watched her reaction.
Her mouth hanging open slightly, her eyes widening in awe, the Peanut pointed toward the birthday girl. "TI-AAAA-RA," the Peanut said in a reverent tone, mimicking the word she heard the adults saying all around the room. Then she looked at me and pointed at her own head. "TI-AAAA-RA!"
I think I know what somebody wants for her own 2nd birthday later this year...
I suppose I will give in and get her the tiara and the poofy princess skirt, because I can see it's going to make her soooo happy. But that knight on the white horse -- he's history. He is never setting foot in my house.