Published: May 21, 2008 04:16 pm            

Little princesses grow into practical women

I used to watch my daughters at play: Fairy Princesses clothed in regal trains disguised as worn-out kitchen curtains, and transformed to gold and silver by sprinkles of magic pixie dust.

Even then there were hints of what they would become. Royal majesties meticulously setting a tiny table for tea with a handsome prince just about to arrive from saving damsels in distress.

There was a pecking order, of course. By divine decree, my eldest was always The Most High Royal Princess, while her two younger sisters were content being Princess in Waiting and Princess Most Gracious. The younger girls often traded roles back and forth from tea party to tea party, while the eldest served steadfastly as supreme but benevolent ruler.

Pomp and heraldry were the order of the day for every party, of course, and after the tea table was set, the youngest would scamper to the edge of the yard, turn and solemnly announce in a voice that could be heard five houses away, “The Most High Royal Princess of the Land will now hold court with the Royal Princess in Waiting and the Royal Princess Most Gracious!” Then she would add, almost as an afterthought, “All are welcome!”

The younger princesses would then lead Her Highness majestically to the table where they would curtsey followed by a deep bow. My guess is they did both to make sure no level of regal respect was overlooked. After The Most High Royal Princess was seated, the others would sit. Her Most High Royal Princess would then pour tea disguised as water or Kool-Aid from a plastic pitcher into tiny doll house porcelain cups from which they would then politely sip.

Occasionally, the dog would wander onto the scene to be treated as either an invading dragon to be dispatched with a magic wand, or as a guardian lion whose only role in life was to protect princesses from invading dragons.

Once or twice the princesses invited me to have tea with them. One of the younger princesses would take me by the hand and lead me across the yard and into the inner sanctum.

“It’s customary to bow,” she would whisper as we approached the tea table. Of course I bowed as low as possible before kneeling down at the table to enjoy the taste of very, very fine tea and the unmatched hospitality of royal princesses.

Today my daughters are moms with more practical kingdoms to rule. They pay bills, plan menus, cook and clean, help their kids with homework and sometimes hold down jobs outside the home. Their conquering princes today wear the masks of tired husbands, and the dog is mostly someone else wanting to be fed.

Yet, on occasion, I have watched my eldest whisper conspiratorially in her daughter’s ear and then set a small table with snacks and tea to be relished in secret by just the two of them. What they share in muted tones then is theirs and theirs alone.

Afterward, when they have cleared the table and returned to more mundane matters, I have often noticed something lingering ghostlike in the air. It is, I suspect, a wisp of magic pixie dust.



Ward Degler is a Zionsville writer and artist. E-mail him at wdegler@att.net.

        

• Click to discuss this story with other readers on our forums.