I was never a princess. I can remember fighting my mom when she asked me to wear dresses to church. Mom, you have probably forgotten the time you made me go to an extended family dinner (thanksgiving maybe?) and did my hair in ringlets, telling everyone, "doesn't she just look like Shirley Temple?" Not really a good day for me. I preferred tube socks up to my knees just like my older brother. That is all to say, where did this little princess come from that lives in my house? I have vivid recollections that it was actually out of my own belly. I do confess I was on some drugs at the time, but I am pretty sure, she is mine. And, for that matter, Jason, is not much of a princess either... not much. But, here she is, the product of our combined genetic makeup, prancing around in crown and tutu, singing, "I know you... I know you..." over and over, not at all like Sleeping Beauty, her favorite princess. And, when she woke up from her nap yesterday before all the others, and I asked her what she would most like to do with mommy, she responded, "have a princess tea party." What a delight! I never knew princess tea parties could be so fun. Perhaps, if I could live it all over, I might have lived more of my early days in dress-up, make-up and singing love songs about princes.
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