A Marmie Moment

Today, I had a Marmie moment--or perhaps a Jo March moment or Louisa May Alcott moment. Either way, it felt great.

This morning, after we dropped The Boy at school, The Girl wanted to read Sleeping Beauty while lying on the floor in the playroom. So we did. Then, say said, "I want to play it." I correctly interpreted that she wanted to act it all out. Fortunately Husband/Dad showed up right about then to play Prince Phillip. I alternately played the good fairies (switching between Flora, Fauna, and Merriweather) and the evil fairy, Maleficent (which was really the most fun). The Girl, of course, played Sleeping Beauty (a.k.a. Aurora and Briar Rose).

Although she didn't have any lines, she was brilliant. She touched the spindle and collapsed into a limp heap on the carpet. She stayed limp and kept her eyes closed as I (being a good fairy) carried her to the futon. She did have a slight smile on her face, but otherwise, she was totally believable as a comatose beauty. And she was so committed to her sleep-like state that she didn't even open her eyes to watch the theatrics as Prince Phillip vanquished Maleficent.

When we finished the scene (after she received True Love's Kiss), she was overjoyed. The first time, she smiled and clapped her hands and said, "Let's do it again!" After the second time, she seemed so overwhelmed by her good luck (Mommy and Daddy totally focused on her and one of her favorite narratives) that she just stood there, smiling so big that she could not speak at all.

Granted, someday I will have to help her descontruct the gender identity she is developing from all of the princess stories (Snow White being one of the worst, I think, because of her ultimate passivity; Belle being one of the better ones if we overlook the fact that she falls in love with her captor, which is SO 16th-18th century), but today was high quality despite the Disneyfication of beauty and womanhood.

And as we acted our roles, and as I saw The Girl's absolute glee, I felt like a good mom. I felt like Alcott's Marmie as she supported and enjoyed the dramatic endeavors of her creative children who knew not Disney. Although I'm not sure even Marmie ever let out an evil cackle in a supporting role.