I Got Your Oedipus Complex Right Here

Like most little girls, my daughters went through the princess stage. They would dress up in fluffy gowns, drench themselves in costume jewelry, don long white gloves, brush glitter on their cheeks and prance around the house speaking to me in a surprisingly accurate British accent. I dutifully fetched them tea and ladyfingers, tossed the rubbish at party's end, formally announced ballroom entrances and fed the royal steed. Yet, I was never overly-charmed by this pretend play. (It's possible I never really embraced princess-play because, on it's face, it is not pretend. Keith and I cook, clean, entertain, transport and basically grant their every wish, so what is it about princess life that my children envy?) I was much more enthusiastic when the girls began dressing up and pretending to be veterinarians, teachers, cowgirls, pilots, even performers. It is clear to me that I prefer they dress up as someone with a skill or function, even if they are pretending to be Hannah-Swift-Pickler. And even today when I see little girls twirling down the aisle at the grocery store or skipping through the park wearing their pink princess dress-ups, I am not enchanted.

But my son! This is where my negative attitude regarding gender-stereotypical play turns on itself. Over the past few months Eli has amassed a collection of dress-up clothes including a knight, policeman, fireman, Batman, Superman, and cowboy. Whenever he dresses up and begins role-playing, I am overwhelmed with adoration. My heart leaps into my throat every time Eli, sword and shield in hand, marches in the room to announce he has come to save me from the dragon. I stop whatever I am doing and merrily let him whisk me away to safety (which is usually the cave under the kitchen table). I absolutely love it when the Dark Knight tells me he will "pwotect" me. And despite the fact that our Superman is scared to death of spiders, he will stand between any spider and me, repeating over and over that he is "super-super-strong" and I should not be frightened. I desperately want to freeze for eternity the vision of Eli darting through the house, black cape flowing, various tools tucked into his belt, announcing that he will protect us from villains old and new. Even as I write, the picture of him catches my breath in my throat. I adore this make-believe role playing. I love the heroic instinct and I relish every moment watching Eli pretend to be gallant, brave, and strong.

So, why is princess play tedious to me while knight-in-shining armor trips my heart? Perhaps because imagining princess characteristics in teens or adults is repulsive--elitist, entitled, spoiled. Even with a great British accent, it is unsavory. Yet, the heroic attributes of a knight or superhero are exactly what I want to teach my son about manhood--strength, loyalty, courage. These are appealing attributes not only in make-believe.

Then again, I might still be playing princess myself and simply enjoying the thought of being rescued by my little knight!