“Hey, Mom… you know who you remind of?” Gwen called from the kitchen.
My seven year old daughter has developed the habit of calling out her random thoughts, expecting whomever she is addressing to be instantly available. She’s a lot like me that way.
When I poked my head into the kitchen, she was sitting at the counter in front of my laptop with Kate. Together, they were watching YouTube videos of Disney Princess songs. Those catchy sing-alongs accompanied by a bouncing ball to emphasize the lyrics. Of course, I was instantly curious. I’ll admit, maybe even a tiny bit flattered to think that some princess evoked fond thoughts of me, their Mommy.
“Who?” I hopefully asked.
“That mean old witch in Rapunzel,” she said. “What’s her name again?”
“Mother Gothel,” Kate answered.
The song they were listening to reached my ears at the same time her declaration registered in my brain.
Mother knows best, take it from your Mumsy…
Have you seen Mother Gothel in Rapunzel? She’s a narcissistic bitch sporting a mane of dark curls. She feeds off Rapunzel’s magical golden hair, engaging in the intimate, maternal act of brushing those locks until the golden glow restores her youth and beauty. Without access to Rapunzel’s hair, she’s a withering mess of gray hair and wrinkles.
What the stuff? Really? This is how my middle child sees me? I most certainly don’t live vicariously through my daughter! Do I?
Panicked, I asked, “Kate, do you think I’m like Mother Gothel too?”
Don’t judge me; I was desperate for a second opinion. I needed someone to tell me that Gwen was wrong.
“Yup,” Kate declared. “You wook wike her.”
Go ahead and leave me, I deserve it…
The most disturbing part is, Gwen made this very accusation three years ago. It’s true. We were in a jam-packed movie theater enjoying a girl’s day out and as Mother Gothel said, “Great, now I’m the bad guy,” when Gwen, in her most inappropriately loud movie theater voice announced, “She’s just like you, Mommy!”
After the insane laughter of our fellow movies goers subsided, I sat in my stadium seat, face burning. Oh, I laughed too, in my lame attempt to appear cool. I mean, four year old kids say the darndest things, right?
On the bright side, they didn’t compare me to Ursula the Sea Witch or worse, Maleficent, because that would have been just plain more awful.
Skip the drama, stay with Mama…