As Halloween approaches, Lindsay and I have been asked how we're going to dress Addison up. In some ways, it seems she might like to try "psychopathic killer," but we've been keeping pencils away from her for a while just in case.
Last year we were visiting my parents in Alabama, and my mom got her a ladybug costume to wear. It was cute. Here she is, one year ago:
That emotion she's expressing? It's glee. She's making an attempt at a smile and pumping her fist in awesomeness.
Since then, however, Addison's been learning about princesses. She reads about or watches something involving Ariel or Belle or Cinderella or Jasmine every day. She has little skirts that she puts on and spins around in, calling herself a "pretty princess."
That's fine. I don't mind if she thinks dresses are pretty, or if she idolizes these Disney princesses . . . or well, yes I do. I tried to make it work in my head, but I couldn't. I mean, fine to think dresses are pretty, I suppose. But I can't say I want my daughter to be obsessed with princess stuff. This is the moment where some people would spout about feminism or cultural determinism or something, but . . . I'm tired. Let's just say that I'm thinking of writing a children's book involving princesses who get totally filthy and run fast and confidently punch monsters in the face. Because I need to subvert Addison's conception of princesses, and I need to do it really soon, I think.
I'm just glad that Addison is not expecting to be a princess for Halloween. Lindsay and I have tried really hard to help Addison appreciate pirates, and this year she's pretty excited to be a pirate. Here she is, receiving a free box of Krispy Kreme donuts for dressing up on International Talk Like a Pirate Day and saying, "Argh!" She also likes "Avast, matey!" and "Yo-ho, yo-ho, a pirate's life for me!"
She's probably gonna be a pirate on Wednesday. She's already been practicing looking for people to rob and towns to plunder.
I feel good about this. I can nurture an inclination towards piracy. We'll see how long it counters the immense gravitational pull of ALL THINGS PRINCESS on little girls. We may have to bring in some other heavy-hitters. I'm already planning ahead. Next year I'm going to work the Jawa angle:
I showed her this paint-shopped picture, and she said, "That's GREAT! I yike that picture!" And then she said, "That's me?" I hope so, honey. I'll do everything in my power to make it come to pass. I would gladly have my little girl running around the house in a dirty robe and bandolier, disassembling all our appliances, and selling them on the black market if it meant doing away with those silly princess fantasies.