Me: You did?
Esky: Yeah. I know that that is sad, but it is also kind of good
...because then you'll be the queen!"
Me: ... "I think I can understand your way of thinking here."
I then went on to explain that while she had seen and read some stories where characters inherited the kingdom after their parents died, that I was in fact, not part of a royal family, and so I wouldn't become a queen. I supplied examples of living royal families, outlined "common people" to royals ratios, and what royal life seems like, to me. I also confessed I wouldn't trade places with any royal I knew of. She didn't look too disappointed about any of these points, but there was a small confused furrow to her brow that indicated something still bothered her.
Me: (Suspecting the furrow's cause) "Did you think you would be a princess?"
Me: "I see! What part of this news is most disappointing to you?"
Esky: "Well, I thought I was going to get a bed like this."
Esky then opened a Sofia the First Colouring Book she was given (containing illustrations based on a show we've never even seen on TV, but she likes colouring copies from the book -- there are flying horses, after all), and carefully turned to a picture she obviously knew well how to find. She then tapped the page, her finger on a line drawing of a four poster bed, complete with draperies. A picture of Sofia with part of this bed in the background, I might add.
Me: "That is a very nice bed." I schooled my facial expressions carefully through this entire exchange, but I did raise my eyebrows here.
Esky: "Yeah. I thought it'd be like always being in a tent, but warmer." She attempted a shrug to show that she could work through this.
Friends: this is the same kid that assumed picture-book illustrations of children posting letters to Santa must be thank-you letters. I mean, what else would these kids be writing? RIGHT?! This is the kid who tells me she will work to earn a pet if we'll let her, and only ever talks about having new things when referencing "when I am older" or "one day maybe I'll have" about animals, not other things so much (including animal toys). I have never thought of her as an entitled kid.
I also think she is pretty switched on...but there are some Esky oversights;
- I know I speak often of how privileged we are to lead the life we do, but where is the palace? The staff? Perhaps we are of the humbler royal variety. Yet with four-poster beds.
- This rendering of events writes my own mother out of the line of succession completely. Perhaps she figured it still meant she was one step closer to Princesshood, and she could wait out another elderly family member's mortal departure if it meant, invariably, being one step closer to that four-poster?
Because there is more.
Because she doesn't often ask for big things, and because she is a sweet kid, I decided then and there that that girl deserved to feel like she slept in a tent all the time -- what a sweet aspiration! She didn't want the wardrobe, the trinkets, or the cloches housing banquet food...she wanted a perpetual tent. And, even if it makes my skin crawl (I am pretty anti- promoting princess things), that kids deserves to feel "like a princess," if her definition is so reasonable and darling.
And thus, this:
"Mosquito net and $2-shop flower leis, you say?"
I say "Making dreams come true." That kid deserves to snuggle down and smile up at the canopy (euphemisms for mossie net abound, I assure you) and know she is adored.
- Were she one of the rich and famous, this is pretty much the simplest writer I've ever heard of.
- Yes, she has a queen-size bed.
- This kind of doubles as a reading nook to replace the one I wanted to convert to closet space for Mia (who is slowly moving out of our room, officially). Tick.
- This addition has meant Esky has appeared by our bedside after nightmares much less frequently. In fact, her need for nighttime reassurance as almost entirely stopped. That's it -- forget "Making dreams come true" -- I build force-fields!