A nana's dilemma...

“Once upon a time,” began the beautiful Princess Belle, in her lovely, sing-song voice. She was speaking to a group of little girls sitting cross-legged on the carpet in front of her as she began the story of “Beauty and the Beast.” My three-year-old granddaughter, listening raptly, was one of them.

Flash back to an hour and a half before.

My daughter, my granddaughter and I were on our way to a special event to have “Lunch with Belle.” My granddaughter had been waiting for weeks for this day. She was unhappily wearing a beautiful new dress I had bought her for the occasion—also new shoes, sunglasses and a grown-up looking bag. She had wanted to wear one of her princess dresses—specifically the replica of Belle’s costume.

We pulled into the parking lot where the lunch was being held, and saw throngs of little, fully bedecked “princesses” and their moms and grandmothers (and one or two dads and grandfathers) heading inside. Somehow, the two grownups in our party never got the memo, although our miserable little counterpart knew all along what she needed to wear.

As we headed to the lunch, we half dragged and carried a sobbing little girl, thinking surely she would perk up once inside. Nope. An entire room full of jeweled little majesties and her misery escalated—big time.

Even I felt like they were all staring sympathetically at us.

Running through my head were all kinds of thoughts about independent women, not following the crowd, feeling good about yourself from the inside out, but not today. One look at that tearstained little face and I knew what I needed to do. I ran back outside, got in the car and drove to my daughter’s house to retrieve the princess dress.

When I arrived back at the luncheon spot, my girls were waiting outside for me.

We quickly changed her clothes and lo and behold, she was transformed into a smiling, sniffling little princess.

The lunch was the stuff that dreams are made of: red roses, crystal candelabras, white tablecloths, beautiful little finger foods—quiches, mini French toast, little glasses filled with chocolate mousse, tiny cupcakes, and not one, but two glorious fairy princesses. Cinderella had come along as a surprise guest!

Smiling with their shiny white teeth, nodding their perfectly coiffed heads and waving with their white-gloved hands, the princesses were breathtaking and the little girls were enthralled. They all got to take their pictures sitting on the princesses’ laps and have, what certainly had to be, deep meaningful conversations with these fairy tale visions of loveliness.

I know—soon enough she will find out that this is not what real life is all about, but today was a day for princesses, of all sizes and shapes. Being Jewish, we don’t even get to do Santa Claus….princesses and the tooth fairy are it for our granddaughter.

Each one of the little girls was given a sparkly hand mirror to decorate with stickers and then take home. Eventually our own starry-eyed princess acquiesced to leaving, waving (she really got that down!) and promising to be back soon. Once strapped into her car seat, she promptly fell asleep after the (seriously) best day of her life.

And then that evening, as she played in the family room with her brother (the superhero), there was a loud crunch when the little princess’s daddy accidentally stepped on her beautiful sparkly mirror. Bibbidi Bobbidi BOO!