How I Spent My Afternoon: A Tale of Two Princesses and The Slaying of Dragons
I have a niece.
She’s two, almost three, and like all American girls in that age group she’s interested in precisely two things: princesses and babies. I daresay if asked what she wanted to be when she grew up, she’d say a princess or a mommy--or, even better-Princess Mommy. And as I am the Greatest Aunt Ever™, I got to spend the whole afternoon playing with my niece.
Of course, we played princesses.
This involved a lot of time spent choosing gaudy tiaras and wearing glittery scarves and drinking imaginary tea. And while that was fun for a time, eventually my niece got bored and decided that dragons needed to invade our tea party.
Not going to lie-I am a fan of dragon-invaded tea parties.
What struck me is that my niece’s first reaction to said dragon invasion was to hide in the closet. Because obviously, the things dragons fear the most are a three year old’s wardrobe.
“But if we’re in here,” I asked my niece, “Who’s going to slay the dragon?”
“Daddy is!” She said immediately.
Said Daddy was lying on the couch, playing xbox. I highly doubted he was going to come save us. Said Mommy, however, was just sitting there chit-chatting, obviously willing and able to slay any dragons at a moment’s notice (the woman gave birth without any drugs last week-after that, dragons should be easy.)
And because I can’t seem to leave well enough alone: “Why does Daddy have to slay the dragon?”
That seemed to amuse my niece, because she immediately started giggling about it. “ ‘Cause Daddy’s a boy.”
And then my heart broke.
Because she’s two, and she already believes she can’t do something simply because she’s a girl. Even in her own imaginary play game, she can’t defeat the dragon, because our culture has taught her that only boys can beat dragons. As a princess, all she can do is hide in closets, waiting for a boy to come rescue her.
That didn’t sit well with me, and so, cheap tiara glittering in the breeze, I grabbed the only weapon available in a princess room (a pink fairy wand) and I banished the evil monstrous dragon (an orange tabby cat) with my awesome imaginary powers and epic mouth-made sound effects.
I became my niece’s hero.
After that moment, I became undefeatable. After all, I defeated the dragon. I didn’t need Daddy to come rescue me-I rescued myself. And I was a princess, too---after all, I was still wearing my epic tiara. That made me a princess. And my niece decided I needed to slay all the dragons. All the time. Everywhere we went. I swear, they must live in the most dragon-invested house, because every ten minutes it seemed like another one showed up.
When it was time to go, she hugged me tightly, clinging to my legs. “Can you come again soon? I need you to be the hero and slay the dragons for me!”
I hugged her back. “Maybe next time, I’ll teach you how to fight the dragons.”
She’s two, almost three, and like all American girls in that age group she’s interested in precisely two things: princesses and babies. I daresay if asked what she wanted to be when she grew up, she’d say a princess or a mommy--or, even better-Princess Mommy. And as I am the Greatest Aunt Ever™, I got to spend the whole afternoon playing with my niece.
Of course, we played princesses.
This involved a lot of time spent choosing gaudy tiaras and wearing glittery scarves and drinking imaginary tea. And while that was fun for a time, eventually my niece got bored and decided that dragons needed to invade our tea party.
Not going to lie-I am a fan of dragon-invaded tea parties.
What struck me is that my niece’s first reaction to said dragon invasion was to hide in the closet. Because obviously, the things dragons fear the most are a three year old’s wardrobe.
“But if we’re in here,” I asked my niece, “Who’s going to slay the dragon?”
“Daddy is!” She said immediately.
Said Daddy was lying on the couch, playing xbox. I highly doubted he was going to come save us. Said Mommy, however, was just sitting there chit-chatting, obviously willing and able to slay any dragons at a moment’s notice (the woman gave birth without any drugs last week-after that, dragons should be easy.)
And because I can’t seem to leave well enough alone: “Why does Daddy have to slay the dragon?”
That seemed to amuse my niece, because she immediately started giggling about it. “ ‘Cause Daddy’s a boy.”
And then my heart broke.
Because she’s two, and she already believes she can’t do something simply because she’s a girl. Even in her own imaginary play game, she can’t defeat the dragon, because our culture has taught her that only boys can beat dragons. As a princess, all she can do is hide in closets, waiting for a boy to come rescue her.
That didn’t sit well with me, and so, cheap tiara glittering in the breeze, I grabbed the only weapon available in a princess room (a pink fairy wand) and I banished the evil monstrous dragon (an orange tabby cat) with my awesome imaginary powers and epic mouth-made sound effects.
I became my niece’s hero.
After that moment, I became undefeatable. After all, I defeated the dragon. I didn’t need Daddy to come rescue me-I rescued myself. And I was a princess, too---after all, I was still wearing my epic tiara. That made me a princess. And my niece decided I needed to slay all the dragons. All the time. Everywhere we went. I swear, they must live in the most dragon-invested house, because every ten minutes it seemed like another one showed up.
When it was time to go, she hugged me tightly, clinging to my legs. “Can you come again soon? I need you to be the hero and slay the dragons for me!”
I hugged her back. “Maybe next time, I’ll teach you how to fight the dragons.”