As I mentioned recently, Annie loves to play pretend in our backyard. Her favorite thing to pretend is that we’re in “Jack and The Beanstalk” (in Annie’s version Jack has a sister named Annabel), but yesterday she decided we were going to play “Cinderella.” Of course, Annie being Annie, she had her own twist on the classic, one that makes me pretty confident she will never take any crap from anyone ever.
“Okay, Dada,” Annie said as we got outside. “I’m Cinderella and you’re the wicked stepmother.”
That was not how I envisioned things going.
“The wicked stepmother?” I said. “No way. I’m Prince Charming.”
“No. You’re the wicked stepmother!”
“Now go over there, Dada!”
Annie gestured toward the guard railing. As you can see, she directs these backyard stories like a junior Michael Bay.
“Okay,” I said. “I’m the wicked stepmother.” I then shuffled over to the guard railing as Annie picked up her kid-sized broom and began sweeping.
I let her do a little sweeping before I strolled over affecting an authoritative air.
“Now you listen to me, Cinderella. You are going to stay here and clean this house. Got it? You are NOT going to The Ball!”
I was expecting Annie to run off and mock-cry, but instead she threw down her little broom and stomped over to me.
“No!” she yelled. “I AM going to The Ball!”
She then strut off into the distance, presumably toward The Ball.
Don’t mess with my kid, people. Seriously.