It isn't asking for much, outside the walls of a home---just a little private pee time. But as any giver of care can tell you, inside a home, it's asking for too much!
So, in struts Princie.
Her Daddy gave her that nickname: Princess+Pixie=Princie.
Next thing I know, in my lap sits something that resembles a large rat, a very creepy and nasty rat. To my relief, it was not a rat, but something almost as terrifying....the mullet wig from our costume closet.
"Put it on", demands Princie.
"Could you just give me a minute?", I ask.
"Uhh, noooo, I need you to wear it, now."
"Coler Moler won't wear it, and Cademan won't wear it, and Daddy isn't here."
"So, put it on."
"Why don't you put it on yourself."
"I can't", she informs me, "I am not funny. I'm pretty."
"Well, you could actually be both."
"Not today, I'm in a mood."
"You're what? In a mood, what is that supposed to mean?"
"That I don't feel like smiling, or talking, I only feel like this."
(insert image of pouty lips that she just might trip over, as well as scrunched up brow and nose)
"So, you wear it and then I can laugh at you, and I won't be in a mood anymore."
"Ok, fine then Princie, give me the wig."
I put it on, she just stares at me.
"Is this working, am I funny?", I ask.
"No, Daddy is much more of funny. I am still in a mood."
Now that makes two of us!