In Defense of Princesses

When we watch a princess movie, not a detail -- not a tiny bit, not a passing whim -- is left unquestioned.  We go over what makes people sad and why they behave in ways we don't understand.  We unpack motivations and fears. 

Oh, we talk about the dresses and jewels and castles, too.  Our interest is piqued, as always, by the magical lives of these adventurous girls.  (And I admit -- I'm included in that 'our'.  I've always loved fairy tales, whether Disney-altered or otherwise.)  Mia talks about the kind of princess she wants to be when she grows up: an artist princess, or, lately, a baker princess.  But the job title of 'Princess' is seemingly non-negotiable, here. 

And there is no question that her princessly future will include a prince.  Recently, she pretended for most of an entire, homebound snow day, that there was a young, blonde, kind, funny, slow-eating prince in our house.  He was going to take naps here -- he would sleep on the couch, and I should take care not to be worried when I heard his massive, rumbling snores.  Later, at night, she trusted that he would sneak into her room and play with her, because he is a new genre of prince that I've never encountered in my sheltered life: a Nocturnal Prince.  But during the day, I'd be hearing snores.  I might laugh, but I mustn't hurt his feelings.

Yes, we are a princessy household.  As sure as I am that these pretendings and imaginings are healthy and fun for us, I can't help but notice all the ways young girls might be waylaid by the princess-mentality.  The beautiful, entitled, womanly, rebellious, happy-ending mentality.  My only argument against those things are to assert that our family doesn't live in a world that encourages diva behavior, and our princess fixations are playful and sweet.  Our daughters don't wear flimsy, grown-up clothing or behave provocatively, and if they wander in those directions, we'll handle it. 

I agree that it might be worrisome if the only pretend games we played were princess-centered, but I know otherwise: we are pirates and skunks and lions and ladybugs.  We imagine we are islanders or mountaineers; we sail the oceans and explore in caves.  We run the full gamut of imaginary lives in any given day, and I feel that my children are gaining well-rounded ideas of what life is or could be. 

As for the happy-ending part, I'm torn.  I think a good dose of hope and positivity is helpful in navigating life, and I harbor no illusions that my girls will grow to the age of 18 without understanding that princess stories are fantasy.  I like the innocence of a baker-princess.  The creativity of an artist-princess.  And I like that my girls can dream themselves into unreachable positions before realizing the truth of hard work and dedication.  'Thinking on the bright side' is not something to be ashamed of, in my opinion.  Even if that bright side is unrealistic, there are good aspects of our princess dreams that are worth aspiring to: kindness and adventurousness, helpfulness and creativity, curiosity and perseverance.

The other thing is, sometimes your dreams do come true. 

In Beauty and The Beast, one of Mia's newest favorites, we don't know the name of the prince.  We know he is a vain and selfish prince in the beginning, a temperamental beast in the middle, and a handsome, tattered man in the end.  We've discussed his lack of a name and wondered why he's only known as The Beast, and now Mia's come up with a solution: we must name him. 

She cocked her head to one side and scratched her ear. "Mama, I think the beast DOES have a name.  His name is Justin."  And off she skipped, dancing to a self-made tune and imagining herself as Belle with a no-longer nameless prince.

I don't think it's merely a lack of other boys' names on her mind that made her choose her daddy's name for the prince.  I don't think it's an accident that she sees her father as handsome and valiant, brave and strong, kind and generous.  And I don't think it's an impossible dream for Mia to imagine herself dancing off into the sunset with such a man. 

It's an attainable princess-hope.  It's a dream come true -- in reality, though. 

It's a happy ending (and beginning) in the real world.