On a total whim last semester I decided to take a Creative Non-Fiction class as an elective. I knew it would be interesting, but I had no idea that I would enjoy it so much. The best part about this class was that it required us to write one essay a week, which kept me on my "creative" toes all semester long. Below is one of the essays I wrote for the class. For those of you who have had the privilege of meeting Alyssa, this entry should be especially entertaining.
I worked for seven years as a nanny for a little girl named Alyssa. She was from a wealthy family, so it was not uncommon for her mother to send me to the mall with Alyssa, a credit card, and implicit instructions to purchase a season’s worth of clothes for the little girl. I was then directed to finish our visit to the mall with a stop at the “Build a Bear” store, so Alyssa could build and dress the stuffed animal of her choosing. Needless to say, I thoroughly enjoyed my job.
I will never forget our first visit to the exciting teddy bear shop. Naturally, I assumed she’d choose the fluffiest bear, and dress it in soft, colorful pajamas, creating a bear suitable for nighttime snuggling. I could not have been more wrong. Alyssa made a bee line over to the stuffed animals and immediately reached for a giant, purple cat. It seemed like an absurd choice- the cat was so large that she struggled to carry it in her arms and its massive eyes and long eye lashes made it look like it had just walked off the set of a sci-fi movie. I tried in vain to tempt her with a fluffy, white teddy bear. “Alyssa, look how cute this one is!” She would not have any of my suggestions, so we took the giant, purple cat to the dressing area.
We walked slowly through the clothing isles, and Alyssa’s eyes widened as she searched for the perfect outfit with which to clothe her new, naked pet. I pointed out multiple sets of snuggly pajamas and sweat suits, but none of my choices made the cut. Suddenly Alyssa started hopping in place and yelling “This one! This one!” I followed her tiny finger to an outfit hanging on a high hanger. I cringed. It was a bubble gum pink, frilly princess dress. It was made out of synthetic crape fabric that was sewn in layers over the skirt. The bottom flew out in the typical “princess puff,” and the dress was complete with tiny, rosettes sewn in between the folds. As was trying to visualize Alyssa that evening, tucked in her bed, and cuddling this giant cat with a prickly dress, one of the store employees came over to take the dress down from the wall. Alyssa slowly and meticulously dressed her new kitty- first the pink princess underwear, then the fluffy pink dress, complete with hard, sparkly pink shoes, and finally, pink bows for the kitty’s ears. I had never seen anything so hideous in my life.
Alyssa thought it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She named her “Princess Kitty.”
Over the next two years, Alyssa created duplicates of the exact same cat every time we went into that store. Sure, there were slight variations- now a pink cat, with a purple dress- then a white cat with a pink and white dress- but ultimately, we ended up with four or five versions of the original “Princess Kitty.”
I often think about Alyssa’s seemingly innate preoccupation with Princesses. On rainy days we watched Disney Princess movies and television shows about Barbie princess fairies, and Alyssa loved to play dress up in fluffy princess costumes, sparkly makeup, and plastic jewelry. Even when challenged with a better option, or a newer idea, Alyssa always reverted to the most “royal” choice. I attributed her fixation to Disney movies or bedtime stories, but I often wonder if there wasn’t something more natural in her desire. Why do all little girls want to be Princesses, and where did this preoccupation begin?
Perhaps the idea originates with the simple act of telling our children fairy tales? Certainly every little girl knows the stories of Cinderella and Snow White. No one would argue that Disney has a monopoly on the “princess” brand, and their version of the popular fairy tales are the most well known. Mr. Disney was creative and savvy when creating his own version of the fairy tale world by upping the moral aspects of the original tales as written by the Grimm brothers. He also extracted elements of the tale that might be frightening to young children, and filled these holes with new and exciting characters such as talking animals and fairy godmothers. All of this, combined with a brilliant mix of song and colorful animation, Disney created a perfect recipe for whimsical success.
However, even considering Disney’s attempts to infuse Grimm’s original tales with a double dose of morality, the occasional, negative message may slip subtly through the fairy-world cracks. It is inevitable that a child will find these cracks, no matter how small they may be.
Case and point: one rainy day, after watching The Little Mermaid over a snack of goldfish and apple juice I asked Alyssa what she wanted to be when she grew up. Without hesitating she replied confidently, “The Queen.” “The Queen of what?” I asked her, smiling at her seemingly random response. She looked at me with a puzzled look and dramatically responded “The Queen of the kingdom!” I stifled a giggle, “Why, Alyssa? Why the Queen?” She turned to me, now obviously exasperated by my ignorance “Because then I can tell everyone what to do, and they’ll have to listen to me.”
Alyssa had found the crack in her fairytale kingdom.
