 | Now this is some funny shit. Looooong NYT Mag article about a Femi-Mummykins in the midst of a Dowd-ish Life Crisis as she tries to figure out how to steer her 3 yr old daughter through the marketing minefield of girlie girl fantasies, torn, conflicted, or Royally pissed off at almost every turn... All the while, the kid is cool. Magically cool. Major cool. In fact, the kid's frickin' awesome. The kid "gets it". She's gonna rock. Enjoy. Lol. |
By PEGGY ORENSTEIN - December 24, 2006 - I finally came unhinged in the dentist’s office — one of those ritzy pediatric practices tricked out with comic books, DVDs and arcade games — where I’d taken my 3-year-old daughter for her first exam. Until then, I’d held my tongue. I’d smiled politely every time the supermarket-checkout clerk greeted her with “Hi, Princess”; ignored the waitress at our local breakfast joint who called the funny-face pancakes she ordered her “princess meal”; made no comment when the lady at Longs Drugs said, “I bet I know your favorite color” and handed her a pink balloon rather than letting her choose for herself. Maybe it was the dentist’s Betty Boop inflection that got to me, but when she pointed to the exam chair and said, “Would you like to sit in my special princess throne so I can sparkle your teeth?” I lost it.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” I snapped. “Do you have a princess drill, too?”
She stared at me as if I were an evil stepmother. |