once upon a dream

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The boys and I watched Sleeping Beauty again tonight. (I know, I know, it's a party every day here.) Miraculously, I got to watch the entire movie … as opposed to the dragon scene over and over and over again. My favorite part is well-known. I always sing along. I sometimes make one of the boys play Prince Phillip and dance with me. 

Oh that Prince Phillip! What a catch!

At bedtime, in an effort to indefinitely delay actually falling asleep, Joe engaged his gullible mama in a conversation about the merits of Prince Phillip and of men in general. (Man that kid knows how to work his audience.) Why did I love him so much? Was it the singing? The dancing?

Oh kid. Where do I even start? How can I even begin to explain the magic that is wrapping yourself up in a pair of strong arms and swaying to some slow music? The tingle that spreads all the way to your toes from a head rested against a warm chest? Or even the comfort of a confident hand on the small of your back as you walk through a crowd?

I decided on a simple, "People love dancing. Dancing is fun with all kinds of people, but it's an especially good feeling to dance with someone you love." This, as it often does, led to a discussion about what his life will look like when he grows up. Much to his disappointment, Joe will never be an actual prince like Phillip.

But he's made some plans.

After careful consideration, Joe has decided to marry a girl. She's going to be a mama like me. And she will sing to him and scratch his back and put her feet in his lap while they watch television. Every morning he will make her pancakes and coffee and tell her she looks pretty when she leaves for work. And kiss her. Right in the middle of her forehead. He might even learn to dance with her.

Compelling points my son. You sure paint a beautiful picture of domestic bliss. But while most of us here in the real world will never find an actual prince, some of us are lucky enough to dance through life in the arms of a tall, slightly goofy, flesh-and-blood partner. And who needs Prince Phillip when you've got that?

Sweet dreams my lovelies.

olive juice, okay?

emily

p.s. And while I'm on the subject…