the lion problem

The truth is, playing princess is not Rosie's first choice, and never has been.

Right now her favorite game is this: she pretends to be a lion cub, and I pretend to be a scientist studying lions in the wild. I give her a bowl of water and some pita bread, and she lives with me, explaining, "My mother and father and baby brother are dead from the gunners, so do you think I could live with you and be your pet?"

Then, trouble arises in the form of hunters (or "gunners") who come to shoot lions. I am supposed to tell them, "No hunting allowed," and then, if they won't leave, I am supposed to fight them.

This is where the game gets tricky. I keep trying to use diplomacy to deal with the hunters, but diplomacy (or even "calling the police") is just not as dramatic as fighting, and therefore not acceptable to my kid. I refuse to play pretend games where any people kill other people; but how can i model diplomacy rather than violence in her pretend worlds and still make the story dramatic and interesting?

Help.

Maybe my best bet is just to make the story outlandish. Win the gunners over with a spontaneous dance party or jello jigglers. Maybe I should bring magic in, and turn them into mice.

(Incidentally, I can't totally explain where this game came from, except that she has an abiding love for The Lion King, and she recently enjoyed a library story book about Jane Goodall living with the monkeys. I don't know how the hunters got in.)

a princess problem, part one

This morning I was a scientist studying lions and a magic doctor healing giraffes. I was a three year old girl holding a baby jaguar; I was a "halt-man" (which is exactly what it sounds like); and I was a pony running through a candy forest. I was friends with a lion, a little girl, another pony, and finally, a princess.

She put on an ancient nightgown. "I think this twirls," she said, experimenting. "I must be a princess!"

Time to engage in some research. "What do princesses do?" I asked.

"I don't know," she said. "They organize things."

Then,

"Sometimes," she continued, "people think I'm a princess."

"Why do they think that?" I asked.

"Because they think I'm pretty," she said nonchalantly, and then with passion, "Chase me!" And we're back to tag, running in circles around the house, the all-time favorite activity.

I have nothing against twirly skirts, telling our daughters that they are beautiful, or fairy tales with happy endings. I like love stories, including my own, which, incidentally, began a long time ago in a faraway land and involves a strong man with kind eyes.

I have nothing against princesses, when they are done right. And I think even Disney does them right, sometimes.

But I get all up in arms when the role model suggested - by Christians - for my three year old daughter is a beautiful, silent, passive, nameless, objectified teenage princess who only needs a man chosen for her to marry in order to have a happy ending.

Oh, this book gets my heart rate up. I've tried to ignore it for a year now, but it keeps showing up. And I looked at reviews online and they're all positive! So I am compelled. I'll tell you more about this book (and its counterpoint for boys), and why I - not to mince words - hate it, in a few days, when I calm down. Or even if I don't.

fear of rust

In case you missed it, my better half has embarked on a year long music-listening project which he will be chronicling on his tumblr. If you enjoy music and dry humor, you will enjoy his take on the albums of 1979.