DEFENDING THE DISNEY PRINCESSES

When it comes to my approach to parenting it really boils down to two categories: “things the pediatrician suggests” and “my gut.” I chose my kids’ doctor because I trust her and if she says, “Jump,” I pretty much say, “How high?” Though when she suggested Arden see a dietitian because she was getting a little portly, I didn’t think I needed an outside source to confirm that I let her eat too much junk food. But when it comes to non-doctor-related issues, I just do what I think is right. But it wasn’t until I started writing this blog that I found out not only do other people think differently than me, but some of them feel so strongly about their beliefs that they’d stone me for thinking otherwise. And I’m not talking about the big issues (though none of the issues seem big to me), but people get up in arms about whether or not they should let their kids have a juice box or not.

One would think that after my Ferber Method Fiasco, I would try and steer clear of any polarizing topics here, however last week, an old friend posted a picture on his Facebook page of a seemingly innocuous deconstruction of the Disney Princesses throughout time (see above). With my tomboyish daughter recently discovering the magic of Disney and the aforementioned princesses, I made a comment on my friend’s Facebook page about how I thought the breakdown was funny, but that it was also an oversimplification.

I thought that would be the end of the discussion. Boy was I wrong. This began a somewhat heated debate on feminism and how the Disney Princesses are detrimental to the social growth of young girls today. I mentioned that being a father to a little girl, there’s something magical in watching my daughter light up when she watches these movies of my youth. This person went on to “admit” that she couldn’t “understand what it's like to share Disney sex-princess gender-role-brainwashing” with her kids. And that she found it “horrifying” and saw “little that's defensible about it.” She went on to say that, “it is so incredibly harmful for girls to be socialized into gender roles where their only purpose is to be sex-princesses for the men.”

This got my blood boiling. I now felt like I was being personally attacked for my parenting choice to let my children watch Disney movies. I let Arden watch Spongebob and I’m not worried that she’s going to grow up thinking there’s a talking sponge that lives in a pineapple under the sea. But I was quick to point out that Belle, from Beauty and the Beast (Arden’s new favorite movie that I had recently watched 437 times), did not save the prince with her sexuality. She saved him with true love’s kiss. And that Beauty was in fact one of Disney’s more sophisticated love stories. We actually see the characters grow and fall in love over time. And that the story’s central message is actually “don’t judge a book by its cover.” But this person wouldn’t hear it. She just said Belle was the only Disney princess caught reading a book and she didn’t use her smarts to save the day. I disagreed. I actually thought her decisions throughout were intelligent and her “enslavement” was her choice. A sacrifice for her father. What man would do something as courageous as that? None that I know. But again, that wasn’t what the movie was about.

Look, I’ll be the first to admit that the older Disney princess films like Snow White, Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella have an obvious sexist slant to them, but they were produced during a different era, an era where women were sadly not considered equals. Does that make sexism right or okay? Of course not. But couldn’t it be argued that because women were relegated to this inferior role in society that these were really stories of hope, of dreams of a better life? Are they much different than the stories of Horatio Alger in that sense? As a guy maybe I don’t fully “get” how some women could be affected by these stories. But the stories themselves have nothing to do with the “Disney Machine” as this person referred to it. Uncle Walt only adapted these stories for the silver screen; they were around long before Steam Boat Willy was a twinkle in his eye. Either way, I think we should be able to enjoy these movies for their beauty, art and craftsmanship. Like I said before, there’s something magical watching these movies with my daughter. Movies that stirred my own imagination as a kid. Besides, when Arden plays princess, she’s never waiting for her Prince Charming and if she is it’s to boss him around.


My parents somehow missed the free-loving sixties, even though they were 25 years old when the decade ended, and I grew up in a home where my father worked twelve hours a day and my mother cooked, cleaned and looked after us kids. And even though my father didn’t know how to make toast, at no point during my youth did I ever feel that my parents weren’t equals and at no time did I ever feel that women weren’t capable of everything men could do. But that’s because my parents raised us with those beliefs so when we went out to see Snow White “saved” by a Prince’s kiss, I didn’t go home thinking that my role was to sweep some poor girl off her feet and take care of her. And my sister didn’t sit around waiting for some guy to come along and whisk her away to a better life. Well maybe she did, but that’s a different story all together. (I'm kidding, Marge!)

I don’t pretend to live in a world where sexism doesn’t still exist, but most of my generation grew up watching these movies and we turned out all right and while women may still be fighting for some respect I think we’ve come a long way. But in the end I think it comes down to if we raise our kids right then there shouldn’t be any cause for concern if we expose them to the older Disney classics or a talking sea sponge. Either way, I’m looking forward to this coming summer when Arden turns five and I get a chance to sit down and watch one of my favorite princess movies with her. Star Wars. May the force be with us.


In The Photo: My Little Princess

LEGO 9-1-1

Legos were a big part of my childhood. I spent countless hours creating blocky new worlds. I have such a fond nostalgia for those cute little rectangles that my keys now dangle from a Lego Darth Vader keychain. So a couple of years ago when I discovered that they made jumbo Legos "For Kids 1 and Up" I quickly snapped up a big tub of interlocking goodness for Arden. And now that Alex has just turned one, the three of us have been playing with them together. However, Arden's now graduated to the miniature Legos of my youth. The 4-year-old sets may be small and contained, but the pieces are still tiny and if you're trying to create the scenes on the box, you really need to be a little older than four to construct them. More like 37. So where Arden used to build these incredible fortresses with her chunky Legos, I'm now forced to build everything for her. And we know how much I like playing for my kids instead of with them.

On Saturday afternoon I built two small Lego girls and a Lego horse for Arden and she asked if we could take them out to dinner with us. I told her that the Olive Garden had a "No Lego" policy. She said I was being silly so I said I didn't want her losing the little pieces. She responded in her typical matter-of-fact tone, "Just put them in a ziplock bag." Okay, she won that battle, but I was destined to win the upcoming Lego War, which of course meant I would also lose...

After some "endless salad" and "world famous" breadsticks we headed off to Trader Joe's to do some early Thanksgiving grocery shopping. On the ride over Arden asked if she could put the window down because she was hot. I knew it was some kind of ploy, but I went along with it anyway. So Trader Joe's was on the horizon and everything seemed fine until I heard this blood-curdling scream come from the back seat. I whipped my head around to see Arden in tears, "The Lego girl blew out the window!" I said, "It blew out the window?" "Yes!" "Were you holding it out the window?" Arden suddenly got quiet, "Yes." But then she blurted out, "You have to save her, she's gonna get runned over."

We pulled into the Trader Joe's parking lot and I said to Jen, "I'll take the baby up the street in the stroller and see if I can see anything." But with it already being dark outside I knew there wasn't a chance in hell I'd find anything. And even if I did, there was no way Lego Girl would be anywhere near in tact. But off Alex and I went while Jen and Arden toured the mart.


I started walking down the darkened sidewalks of Silverlake, passing where I heard "the scream" and I couldn't see anything. I couldn't even see the sidewalk itself it was so dark so I turned around and headed back towards Trader Joe's, but then a car started down the road and I got a glimpse of a tiny yellow rectangular pair of eyes staring up at me from the middle of the street. I quickly locked the wheels on the stroller and darted out into the road and picked them up. As I was running back to the sidewalk I saw another car coming towards me, lighting up the road to reveal another goddamned piece. But I was forced to run back to the sidewalk and wait for the car to pass. When it did I ran back out into the road, scooped it up and saw yet another piece further down the road. Alex laughed from the sidewalk as she saw me running back and forth into the road, collecting little colored bricks, one at a time.

About a half-hour later I returned to the car just as Jen and Arden were approaching with the groceries. Arden saw me and didn't say anything. I think Jen prepped her for the inevitable loss of her little square friend, but then I produced three-quarters of the Lego Girl. Before Arden could respond I added, "We can fill in the rest with some extra pieces at home." I expected Arden to give me some guff, but she just wrapped her arms around me and said, "Thanks, Daddy." Another successful day at the office.

REALITY BITES

One of my favorite quotes of all time is “Between the idea and the reality…falls the shadow.” I like the author, the great American poet T.S. Eliot, so much that Alex’s middle name is Eliot. I like this particular quote because it’s apropos to so many aspects of life and one of them crept up on me this past weekend.

The in-laws were in town for Alex’s first birthday and we decided to hit the Natural History Museum because they were featuring a new “Dino Lab” and one of Arden’s many not-quite traditional female passions is dinosaurs. First off, the Dino Lab is probably one of the lamest exhibits I’ve ever seen. Especially if you’re four years old. It’s just a window into a “lab” where you get to see a real live paleontologist using a microscope and a toothbrush to remove a miniscule amount of dirt from the bone of what looks like a prehistoric pigeon.

Because dinosaurs were in the air at the museum they also had a dinosaur puppet show at the museum. And even though it was only ten minutes long, it was probably one of the best exhibits I had ever seen. A puppeteer inside a lifelike and life-size triceratops emerged from behind our host and a hush came over the crowd and not just from the kids. If I didn’t know there was a person inside I would’ve thought I was just transported into a Steven Spielberg movie.

While the triceratops approached the girls Arden turned to me and said, “That’s not a real dinosaur, is it, Daddy?” She knew that dinosaurs no longer existed, but there was still a little gleam of hope in her eyes. Hope that maybe this really was the last real dinosaur in the world. And it broke my heart to say to her, “No, sweetie, it’s just a big puppet.” She enjoyed the rest of the show. But not quite as much as if she thought it was real.

Arden’s asked me these kinds of questions before. Most recently, during Halloween, she asked if ghosts were real and witches and goblins. Each time I had to tell her “no.” Part of me wants to say “yes” and let her enjoy the fantasy of it all. She’s got a great imagination and I hate seeing it dashed by reality. And there are only so many years in your life where you can play with your dolls and toy dinosaurs and pretend you’re really walking among them. I don’t want to stifle that, but at the same time I don’t want her believing something that isn’t true. I know where you think this is heading. Christmas. But good news for Arden, I still believe in Santa so I won’t have to cast my shadow on her ideas or her reality this time.

QUOTABLE ARDEN

This past weekend was Alex’s birthday and Arden says to Jen, “Today is Alex’s birthday so she can do whatever she wants.” Jen told Arden that was very sweet of her to say. And then Arden said, “And I’m Alex’s sister, so I can do whatever I want too.”

This morning I was getting Arden ready for school and she says to me that she learned a new Spanish word. I said, “What is it?” She said, “Deese.” Now I know a fair amount of Spanish and I was pretty sure there wasn’t a word called “deese,” but Arden’s been known to mispronounce Spanish words, so I said, "Deese?" And Arden replied, “Yeah, deese. Deese is my dress. Deese is my shoe. Deese is my hand…”

F@&KING FOURS

What they don’t tell you is that the Terrible Twos don’t start when your child turns two. They start at the beginning of the second year. Meaning the 13th month. What they also don’t tell you is that the Terrible Twos are nothing compared to the “Fucking Fours.” At four they’ve got attitude. They talk back. And the meltdowns can be monumental.

A few weeks back we were out to lunch for Jen’s birthday at one of our new favorite joints called The Corner. Everything was going swimmingly until Arden asked Jen to help her color the menu picture and Jen had the audacity to use the orange crayon. Arden demanded Jen get rid of the orange. Of course there was no way to remove the crayon from the picture, at least not with a fork and knife. We explained this to Arden six ways to Sunday, but this Sunday Arden wasn’t listening to reason and just kept saying, “Get the orange off,” until she started to scream and we were forced to leave the restaurant before our meals were finished. For that one, Arden lost dessert for a week.

Not long before that we were up at Universal City Walk for a brunch with our friends Chapin & Greg and Arden ended up having the mother of all meltdowns. After a great meal at the Saddle Ranch (the location of 90 percent of movies and TV shows that require an electronic bull) I decided to treat Arden to something inside the Universal Studios store. But when she didn’t like her choices she threw a fit, screeching and crying at the top of her lungs. When Jen tried to calm her down, Arden actually punched Jen in the face. That’s when I took over. I picked her up, threw her over my shoulder and started to carry her back to the car. She continued to scream and flail and even began foaming at the mouth. Seriously. Actual foam was coming out of her mouth. All of this in front of literally thousands of staring eyes, waiting in line to enter the theme park. I was too pissed to care, but if Chapin and Greg were even remotely considering having kids, this event surely tipped the scales into the “con” category.

Before Jen and I became parents we used to see others kids having meltdowns and we would put our noses up in the air and say, “We’re never gonna have a kid like that.” Boy we’re we wrong. No amount of good parenting can prevent the Fucking Fours from creeping up on you. It just happens. But I think Arden’s been in a bad place as of late because Alex is hitting all kinds of milestones and getting all sorts of praise and attention so Arden’s jealousy and sibling rivalry is kicking back into full gear. But it’s one thing to be a little jealous and it’s another to talk back to your preschool teachers and belt another little girl in the mouth when she says she doesn’t want to play with you. Yup, my daughter is a bully.

I’ve been working on this post for a while; I had paragraphs written about how I’m at a loss over Arden’s behavior and how to fix it. How we tried every form of punishment imaginable, sans spanking. How we’ve counseled her to count to ten when she gets frustrated or tell a teacher when another kid is being mean to her. But every time I start back in on this post Arden will turn around and be the greatest kid in the world.

Not too long ago we went out and bought Jen a new car. And as anyone knows who’s bought a car, it’s not a quick process. From the test drive to the haggling to the paperwork to the actual drive off, you can be there for at least six hours. And when you live 3000 miles from your closest family member you've got no choice but to bring along the brood. But amazingly Arden was a perfect angel that day. Granted she got to go on all the test drives, but the rest of the time she just played by herself, had a few snacks and pretty much left us alone to do our business. It didn't hurt that the dealership made fresh chocolate chip cookies every hour and had a kid's playroom that was airing Nickelodeon all day, but hey, it was still six hours that she had to play pretty much by herself.


Recently Arden was going through another rough patch and we decided the week before Halloween that we were going to take away Halloween from her and that she had to earn Halloween back. And I’ll be damned, it worked. She was good all last week at school. No screaming, no talking back and counting to ten when she got frustrated. Even the teachers remarked how great she had been. Of course the morning after Halloween she got a little uppity when I ate one of her Nestle Crunch bars. But hey, she's four, I'll take uppity over a meltdown any day.


Photos: Top - Arden (at 2 1/2) after TV was taken away; Bottom - The Gang getting ready to get our treat on.