I Am Not a Princess

Our next door neighbor had a princess-themed birthday party this year. Pooteewheet bought Eryn a Christmas dress instead of a Disney-flavored princess dress, and a wand and tiara, so she was a little different looking than every other princess at the ball, but she seemed happy and when she caught us discussing the difference, we explained that she looked like a real princess instead of a Disney princess. She'll no doubt scoff at us in a few years if we try that again.

I was abandoned on princess party night. Pooteewheet took off to have a nice dinner with a friend. She assured me all I had to do was drop Eryn off and leave, but the rest of the parents were sticking around when I got there, and Minnesota nice won't let you bail in that situation, particularly when you live next door. What are you going to say? "Hell, no I'm not staying for a princess party. I'm going home to look at porn for an hour or two! Call me when it's over." Sadly, if I had gone home, I'd have done some work, not look at porn, so a princess party was probably the healthier option.

So here's our princess. Tiara, wand, Christmas dress, black boots, and pearls. She certainly seems happy enough, even though it's not her birthday. Fortunately, Monday we don't have to dress up for Conner's birthday as it's a Chuck E. Cheese event. Did you know he used to be a rat? And that the E. stands for "Entertainment"? And that Chuck E. Cheese was given his name because saying his name is supposed to simulate a smile? Sort of like saying Olive Juice.