Anne’s compelling argument
when i was a kid, one of my aunts married some sort of international ambassador who was rumoured to be a prince of a small african country. my sisters and i thought it was soooo glamorous and instantly told all of our friends that we were really princesses.
the aforementioned marriage fell apart, and the rumours of royalty were never actually confirmed. why then, did i even mention the lebrun legend to my children?
apparently i was hoping to have a recurring argument with the children who can’t be convinced that they’re not really princes and princesses. we’ve had many discussions about it, and the only thing that gets me out of the “no we’re not, yes we are” banter, is to distract the midgets and hope (in vain) that they never bring it up again.
today anne’s argument took on more power when she paired logic with bits and pieces of facts that she’s learned in school:
“mommy, just look. i have to be a princess because i have golden hair like rapunzel (punctuated with a tug on the braid i was attempting to finish while she listed off princessy criteria), i have my own chapstick, i have blood flowing in my body, and i have lots of pretty dresses (twirl).