I gave my child full license to pick her own outfit this morning. Reasonable. However, I’ve been trying to gently (yet deviously) steer her away from all this princess crap, because she’s got wayyyy too many princess dresses, crowns, gloves, tutu’s, etc etc etc, and I am getting sick of it. Not like annoyed beyond belief sick of it, but sick of it nonetheless. Which is why I am secretly pleased that she is growing out of some of her princess dresses, and am hoping that Grandma doesn’t buy her more. Naughty Grandma tends to give her grandkids whatever they want.
Anyway, I was pleased this morning when the kiddo came out in a tank top and shorts (although she insisted in putting a t-shirt on over the tank top, but whatever). Then she went down to her room to play, and returned a little while later in a freaking princess dress and tiara. *rolling my eyes*
Kiddo is constantly talking about marrying Prince Naveen and asking how pretty her dress is–and is disconcertingly fascinated by watching me put on makeup (Damn it! Way to confuse the kid, Mom!). I could claim that my growing aversion to all things princess is about teaching the kiddo realistic ideals of love and life and body image and all that liberal, modern woman-type stuff. But, all that aside, I freaking hate tripping over princess dresses and am freaking tired of stepping on tiaras that are left freaking everywhere.
And, in the end, I am the one who made the suggestion for all the little girls invited to her birthday party in a couple weeks to wear their very best princess get-up. Stupid.