It shouldn't surprise me that my little drama queen is also a princess, but considering the life we lead, it does.
Katie's way more fastidious that she was taught, than was demonstrated to her and then was ever asked of her.
Don't get me wrong, I love a clean kid, but I do not enjoy carrying Katie (and her blankets and backpack and dinosaur egg and two books) across a paved driveway just because there is a thin layer of mud.
Even when she's wearing snow boots, Katie will ask for a ride across wet dirt.
OK, I guess I can understand that. When you're sitting on your heels, it's nice if they aren't soaked.
But, there are things I don't understand.
On the way to the ranch Saturday, we came across a fairly newborn lamb just laying in the middle of the highway. There were no other sheep and no people in sight and the poor little thing wouldn't move from the middle of the road. So we did the only thing we thought right. We loaded the kid up and left, not having a clue what to do with him. For crying out loud (and she did that ALOT), where do you get milk for a lamb at 9 p.m. on a Saturday night?
Luckily we found the answer to that just minutes later. We didn't have to drive far before we hit corrals just teeming with sheep that were all new mothers.
There were even people there, so we didn't have to drop the lamb off and run, hoping that someone shared a teat.
In exchange for bringing him a lamb, the guy running the operation gave us leave to tour the corrals.
We thought it would be great fun for the girls, who were disappointed to not be taking home the lamb that we'd found.
OK, that may be a stretch. Three-year-old Nikki was disappointed. The Princess was ambivalent.
The Princess wouldn't even step foot into the8
barn, let alone pet a lamb because it was "icky."
Granted, the Princess did have a ring of chocolate around her face, but I guess that doesn't constitute gross.
So Nikki left with fond memories and Katie ... was just glad to get back into the car where it wasn't "stinky."
Disney's managed to perpetuate the princess complex by reintroducing -- as a group -- its princesses.
Now, Katie's whole world revolves around these princesses -- their songs, their dresses, their hair ("fix my hair like that, Mom." Yeah, I'm capable of that).
I'm starting to figure it out. When she's dressed in purple, she's Jasmine. When she's feeling gentile, she's Cinderella.
She's got princess shoes, shirts, dress-up clothes -- heck, she even has princess underwear, so maybe I'm contributing to her belief that she's a princess.
OK, I do. Sometimes I call her my little princess.
I'm OK with good manners and that princess sweetness, what I miss is that touch of spice who never would think that dirt is lethal.
Christina M. Currie can be reached at 824-7031, ext. 210 or by e-mail at firstname.lastname@example.org.