Third Person

I have a three-year-old daughter, who I have always called "Deb Jr." in my blog. However, for the purpose of today's entry, she will now be known as "Princess."

Princess is the opposite of her mommy. While I have not voluntarily worn pantyhose since 1997, reluctantly wear skirts to church, and never, ever wear dresses, Princess insists on wearing cute little cotton dresses to school every day. She usually also demands tights, since socks aren't "pretty enough." She has more shoes than I had at 18: her sparkle shoes, her red shoes, her black shoes, her pink shoes, her pink sparkle shoes, her blue shoes, her two pair of tennis shoes, and her brown shoes. She is very concerned that everything match; we had to purchase the blue shoes because she had a blue dress and nothing "matched" it.

"But Deb," you may be saying, shaking your head in pity, "she didn't go out and buy these things for herself. You created this monster."

You're right. I did. I have no defense, only an explanation: Princess came to us after a short but difficult battle with infertility, and we had some scares during the pregnancy. When we were presented with a beautiful, healthy daughter, Sven and I were so enchanted with her that we could deny her nothing. To be fair, we're trying, and she's only 3. We ought to be okay, right?

Still, she's awfully cute. And very clever. She imitates her father and me, to our delight. Tonight, for example, she handed me a paper and pencil and asked me to color. I began to color, and she put a hand on mine and said, "No, Mommy, we don't scribble. You need to trace." I obediently "traced" what she told me to, and she took my paper away. Moments later she handed it back to me. She had put a small sticker on it.

"You get a sticker, Mommy," she said. "You did a very good job. But next time, no scribbles, okay?"

I mean, say no to that. Really.

But by far, the most endearing thing she does, even cuter than the way she'll only eat the buttered side of her toast, is the way she talks about herself in the third person.

"Princess is hungry," she'll say. "Princess wants a snack."

"What does Princess want?" I'll ask.

"Princess wants a yes cheese," she answers. (We have yes cheese, no cheese, square cheese, and round cheese. Princess likes cheese. I don't know how she named it. Don't get me started on the cracker classification system.)

Or, at the end of the day:

"Princess is tired. Princess is ready to go to bed and watch her DVD player." When she goes into third person, she doesn't slip, like Suede did on Project Runway. She keeps it up.

I know she'll have to stop doing this someday, but I can enjoy it while it lasts.