I was kissing Marley goodnight as she laid in her bed, on her fuzzy pink pillow, wearing one of her many princess dresses over her pajamas, piled up with soft pink and white blankets, and regaling me with a tale of the pirates that would surely be coming to get her because pirates always get princesses and tie them up, and then the princesses yell "Help! Help!", while the pirates just say "Aye, aye, Captain!", and the Captains always say "Arrrrrr..." and I figured I should be in the story. So I said, "Well it sounds like I'm going to have to kick some pirates' butts." She said, "Yeah. You do." But then she thought about it and said, "But you're a queen."
Huh, I thought, I don't FEEL like a queen. And with a day's worth of cleaning and diaper changing on me, I certainly don't look like one. Queens don't go nearly a year without sleeping even a solid 6 hour stretch. Queens don't make lame last minute dinners like grilled PB & banana sandwiches- they don't even have to make dinner. Queens don't have to closely calculate every cent before heading out the door to buy a few groceries. Oh and by the way, if I'm a queen, why does no one listen to me? Aren't I supposed to have loyal subjects?
In the split second that all those thoughts were running through my head, Marley covered her mouth and giggled, and said again, "You're a queen, Mama."
Okay.
I'm a queen.
