About a year ago, Shylee came running into the living room in such a frenzy that I barely caught a glimpse of her plastic high heels, fur-lined purple gloves, and pink tutu. In her hand she held a Disney Princess cell phone and after she frantically dialed "her friends" number, this is what I heard:
"Cinderella! I need your help! Snow White is DEAD!"
Then, the other day I was walking past her bedroom and happened to overhear a conversation between her princess barbie dolls. It went something like this:
"I'm going to a tea party and I'm wearing a beautiful dress with beautiful shoes and a very beautiful crown."
Pretty standard four-year-old-fairytale, I thought to myself. Until I heard:
"And Ariel isn't coming to the party because she's dead.
And Flounder died, too. And they died and died and died.
And now they're dead. Because they died."