1 Mother 2 Another

Yesterday I was riding in the car with my
mom, Maddie, and Cora, and Maddie was asking Cora about the plates
she’s picked out for her upcoming birthday party. Cora said
enthusiastically, “It’s got Ariel, and Snow White, and
Belle, and Cinderella, and Sleeping Beauty on it!”


“Does it have Melody on it?” Maddie asked, referring
(for all you poor schmucks who didn’t know) to Ariel’s
daughter in the Little Mermaid straight-to-video sequel.


“No, just the princesses,” Cora said definitively.

“Well,” Maddie argued,
“Melody is a princess too! She’s Eric and Ariel’s
daughter, and Triton’s granddaughter. That makes her a
princess.”


At which point my mom intervened, hoping to end this conversation
without a fight, by saying, “The plates don’t have any
daughters on it.”


“Actually,” I mused under my breath, “The
princesses are all someone’s daughter.”


My mother stared daggers at me and said, “Really? Really? Why
do you have to do this?”


At that exact same moment, Maddie spoke up ruminatively, “You
know, Gamma, those princesses are all daughters, too.
Cinderella’s daddy died, and Sleeping Beauty was a daughter,
before she went to sleep, and Snow White . . .” And on she
went, elaborating on each girl’s lineage. Mom muttered
something about it not coming from her side, and hunkered down in
her chair for the duration of the lecture.


Now, I know I spoke too quietly for Maddie or Cora to hear me
– I didn’t want to continue their conversation, but
couldn’t resist being legalistic. And apparently, my older
daughter’s a chip off the old block.


I fear for the teenage years.