All Hail Princess J
I had been suspecting for some time that royalty was living among us, but now I am sure of it. My soon to be 15 year-old daughter is slumbering peacefully at the hour of eleven-thirty a.m. Soon, she will saunter from her royal bed, raid the kitchen and then proceed to sit at the computer the rest of the day. Surely this is the right - nay the entitlement - of royalty.
Princess J. has one chore. She has to clean the kitchen every day. If I didn't remind her, it would never get done. Yesterday, at 6:30 p.m, I had to remind her. Of course, it involved pouting and stomping. How dare I not recognize her right to do nothing but eat all the groceries and take up space? Of course, only half the kitchen gets cleaned. If a pot needs scrubbed, the princess takes one swipe at it, rinses it, and returns it to the cupboard. So what if it is black and crusty. Do I expect her to break her royal nails or perhaps get tennis elbow in her arm? How would she wave to her subjects?
Why she just asked me yesterday when I was going to hand-wash her shirt that she only wore once. She'd been waiting three months! When I told her that she was capable of hand-washing, Princess J. sniffed. Surely I didn't expect her to do her own laundry!
Princess J. is a bit like Princess Fiona in "Shrek." She has a pretty face and an ugly face. When she talks on the phone to her friends, we see the pretty face, hear the pleasant voice. When she talks to us, the green monster arrives, the one with the snooty voice. They are her friends! We are her subjects. We should expect no more. We should consider ourselves lucky to get the opportunity to scrub her royal porcelain throne.
Aah, to be royalty. I wish we were all so entitled.
Princess J. has one chore. She has to clean the kitchen every day. If I didn't remind her, it would never get done. Yesterday, at 6:30 p.m, I had to remind her. Of course, it involved pouting and stomping. How dare I not recognize her right to do nothing but eat all the groceries and take up space? Of course, only half the kitchen gets cleaned. If a pot needs scrubbed, the princess takes one swipe at it, rinses it, and returns it to the cupboard. So what if it is black and crusty. Do I expect her to break her royal nails or perhaps get tennis elbow in her arm? How would she wave to her subjects?
Why she just asked me yesterday when I was going to hand-wash her shirt that she only wore once. She'd been waiting three months! When I told her that she was capable of hand-washing, Princess J. sniffed. Surely I didn't expect her to do her own laundry!
Princess J. is a bit like Princess Fiona in "Shrek." She has a pretty face and an ugly face. When she talks on the phone to her friends, we see the pretty face, hear the pleasant voice. When she talks to us, the green monster arrives, the one with the snooty voice. They are her friends! We are her subjects. We should expect no more. We should consider ourselves lucky to get the opportunity to scrub her royal porcelain throne.
Aah, to be royalty. I wish we were all so entitled.
posted by Caro at 11:22 AM
1 Comments:
"J" is most certainly a princess. Her poppy and I helped create her when she was very young. The first grandchild teaches a person so many things-yes, it is perfectly valid to dip into the overdraft loan for that outfit that looks like it was made for her and yes, it is mandatory to take time off work to go to her preschool program (and it is not her fault if she is surly because she didn't get a noise maker to wave). How dare the preschool ask to borrow our tape of the program when she picked her nose at 2 1/2 years old!
They should have had their own camcorder. First grandchildren are the smartest, prettiest, sweetest and most well mannered kids in the whole world.
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