Monday, November 10, 2008

My Royal Momminess

It is a well established fact that I am raising three genuine princesses. Sometimes four, depending on the day--Eric hasn't quite been won over to the "prince" concept and sometimes insists that he is also a princess. Whatever. Some battles aren't worth fighting. Besides, those pictures of him in full ballerina getup will be priceless blackmail in his teens. Or not. Knowing him, he'll use it against me by threatening to leave the house in pink princess dress at age 14, and he'd have no qualms about doing it.

But I digress.

Being princesses is not an abstract concept to my girls. It is a definite reality of their lives. This was brought home last week at the dentist's office. Mia had lots of questions about how things worked, and Dr. J finally suggested that maybe she could be a dentist when she grew up. I was chagrined when she looked at him like he'd just suggested she could become a slimy green alien when she grew up. "NO WAY," was her emphatic response. "I am NOT going to be a dentist when I grow up." Silly mommy, trying to show that my child did in fact have nice little dreams for the future, had to ask, "What ARE you going to be, Mia?" Poor, longsuffering Mia gave Mommy the 'you-are-dumber-than-a-rock-but-you-are-my-mommy-so-I-will-humor-you' look and informed us that she will be a princess when she grows up because, duh, she already IS a princess.

But I digress again.

This is the real point of my post: Mia finally figured out that if she's a princess--and she absolutely, truly is--than that must make me...yep, you got it. Okay, she did have a little help figuring this out. Not that I'd have any motive for wanting my kids to believe I'm an Absolute and Supreme Ruler.

For the past three days I haven't been Mommy. I've been Queen. My word is law because we all know that nobody disobeys a Queen. Instead of loud and impatient screams for Mom I've heard sweet little petitions:
"Queen, queen, could I please have more milk, your majesty?"
"Excuse me, my Queen--would you scratch my back?"
"Queen! Queen! I need to go potty NOW" (Even queens run for that particular call).

It's a bit scary how naturally being worshipped, adored, and unfailingly obeyed comes to me.

I could so get used to this.


Becky and Chris said...

Hello your most royal Highness! I am Queen of Williamsland. I must send an ambassador to your realm, perhaps in the shape of my three princes to meet your three princesses. Unfortunately, I find that I have a hard time being the benevolent queen when my royal heirs think that they can make royal messes in their bed chamber and not be responsible for it's re-straightening. Royalty.

mommymuse said...

Ooh, I got distracted there for a minute imagining the super cuteness of the regal grandbabies that would come from joining our royal lines...but I will keep those thoughts to myself since I know my limits as Queen and I have been informed that I am NOT allowed input on marriage-arranging. Ah, for the good old days of the monarchy...

Lucy said...

OK, if you're the queen, what does that make me? The queen grandmother? Sounds weird. Maybe I am the queen of Treehouse Farm, which sounds even more weird because farms don't usually have queens. Hmmm...I'll invent my own kingdom, the land of ... can't think of anything. Guess I'll just be the queen grandmother for now.