Dear Em,
Yesterday after work you, Daddy, & I snuggled in bed & watched a movie. I drifted in & out of an amazing nap. We ate oatmeal for dinner. We were lazy bums, & I loved every second of it. We needed every second of it. We were recovering from our fantastic weekend.
The highlight of your weekend (other than scoring your very first soccer goal) was going to Disney on Ice: Princesses and Heroes with Grandma & Papa. You couldn't wait to dress up as a princess yourself & were very particular about the princess look you wanted. You gave me detailed instructions on how to put together your outfit, accessories, & hair. We ran into a few...battles.
I insisted you wear a turtleneck under your princess dress. The summer heat is long gone, & I figured an ice skating venue would be chilly. You looked at the turtleneck in disgust. "I am NOT wearing that," you shouted while giving me a look that said, "Let's see who can be more stubborn." I explained to you that I didn't want to be chilly & that if you didn't wear the turtleneck, we would need to find a non-princess, weather appropriate outfit for you to wear. "Fine, I'll wear it," you pouted. I was surprised that you gave in that easily. Win for Mommy.
We used the curling iron on your hair for the first time, & I spent almost 40 minutes on your curly up-do. You insisted on wearing a crown that fell off your head at least ten times while I was fixing your hair. I felt like there was no point in fixing your hair if your crown was just going to fall out every fifteen seconds. I suggested a different crown. You stomped your feet & screamed. We finally compromised on a third princess crown that was really made for dolls but would actually stay on your head (Is it weird I felt a little like Macgyver?). It wasn't your original vision, but it would work. Win Win.
When I finally finished, I couldn't wait for you to see the end result. You looked amazing, the perfect picture of a 3.5 year old princess. You ran into my room to look in our full length mirror. I waited to hear "oooohs" & "awwwws" & exclamations of glee. I heard nothing. I walked into my room, a proud grin covering my face. "What do you think? Do you love it?!" I was practically bouncing with happiness.
"I look like a witch," you said matter of factly.
My grin transformed into face of mass confusion. "Wha...?!"
"A witch with a pretty dress & pretty crown &...yucky hair," you continued.
You've got to be freaking kidding me. God help us all if you do somehow become a princess. You can be a little....how should I put it...high maintenance.
"How probable do you think it is that we can get out the door by 11," Daddy asked me. I gave him a look that said fat chance. We headed back into the bathroom. I reworked your hair until you gave me the seal of approval. Win for Emma.
Picking up my sweet, high maintenance princess from school & listening to her recount her dazzling Disney experience is not a bad way to spend a Monday either ("Mom, it was so amazing!").
I love you so (even if you are a little high maintenance),
Mommy
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