Princess PierceWith no regard for my health or financial well-being, a Daisy Scout walked into my office on Thursday and asked if I wanted to buy some cookies.
While Daisy Pierce’s mother, Amelia, was carrying around the sheet of paper on which we were to transcribe our dreams of Thin Mints and Samoas, Pierce and her friend Charlotte hung out in my office.
They told me that they were having a play date. Right then and there. Charlotte had come with Pierce and Amelia to sell cookies. Pierce told me that she had earned her Daisy petals.
“What else?” she asked me when she stopped talking.
Before I could think of what to say Pierce spotted the big bucket of shiny, plastic beads that got tossed in my office after they had been used at an earlier event.
“What are these?”
“OH! Those! Those are Princess Beads.”
Eyes as big as saucers, both of the girls asked, “What are princess beads?”
“Well, if you wear them you will turn into princesses.”
“Weally? Weally? Is that true? Can we have some?”
“Yes.”
After much deliberation about whether they wanted gold or silver, diamond shaped or circles, they each took a strand of beads and put them on.
I answered the phone. As I was talking on the phone they both stood there looking back and forth between each other and then me. Each other and then me. Each other and then me.
I finished up the call.
“Well? We are not princesses.”
“Oh, that is because you have to wear FOUR strands. One of each shape.”
Frantic digging through the bucket ensued.
In no time both Charlotte and Pierce had four strands of beads hanging around their little necks, reaching their bellies. They looked at each other and then me.
“Well?”
“Oh, I forgot. After you have all of the beads that you need you have to wait until the first Saturday that comes along before you can tell that you are princesses.”
“Weally? What is today? What is today? What is today?”
“Thursday.”
“So Saturday is tomorrow?”
“Friday is tomorrow and then Saturday is the tomorrow after that.”
Another phone call.
As soon as I hung up they said, “Are we weally going to be princesses?”
"I think so."
They had more questions, though.
“Do we have to sleep in them or should we hold them in our hands? Will we wake up in our dresses and tiaras? Will we still have to go to school?”
Pierce was completely ready for the transformation. Charlotte seemed a little skeptical.
While Daisy Pierce’s mother, Amelia, was carrying around the sheet of paper on which we were to transcribe our dreams of Thin Mints and Samoas, Pierce and her friend Charlotte hung out in my office.
They told me that they were having a play date. Right then and there. Charlotte had come with Pierce and Amelia to sell cookies. Pierce told me that she had earned her Daisy petals.
“What else?” she asked me when she stopped talking.
Before I could think of what to say Pierce spotted the big bucket of shiny, plastic beads that got tossed in my office after they had been used at an earlier event.
“What are these?”
“OH! Those! Those are Princess Beads.”
Eyes as big as saucers, both of the girls asked, “What are princess beads?”
“Well, if you wear them you will turn into princesses.”
“Weally? Weally? Is that true? Can we have some?”
“Yes.”
After much deliberation about whether they wanted gold or silver, diamond shaped or circles, they each took a strand of beads and put them on.
I answered the phone. As I was talking on the phone they both stood there looking back and forth between each other and then me. Each other and then me. Each other and then me.
I finished up the call.
“Well? We are not princesses.”
“Oh, that is because you have to wear FOUR strands. One of each shape.”
Frantic digging through the bucket ensued.
In no time both Charlotte and Pierce had four strands of beads hanging around their little necks, reaching their bellies. They looked at each other and then me.
“Well?”
“Oh, I forgot. After you have all of the beads that you need you have to wait until the first Saturday that comes along before you can tell that you are princesses.”
“Weally? What is today? What is today? What is today?”
“Thursday.”
“So Saturday is tomorrow?”
“Friday is tomorrow and then Saturday is the tomorrow after that.”
Another phone call.
As soon as I hung up they said, “Are we weally going to be princesses?”
"I think so."
They had more questions, though.
“Do we have to sleep in them or should we hold them in our hands? Will we wake up in our dresses and tiaras? Will we still have to go to school?”
Pierce was completely ready for the transformation. Charlotte seemed a little skeptical.
“Why aren’t you a princess if it’s so easy?”
*ouch*
“Well, I keep forgetting to take my beads home.”
They gathered up four strands of beads—one of each shape and hideous color—and started to put them on me.
“Wait, wait! We should probably make some wishes.”
*ouch*
“Well, I keep forgetting to take my beads home.”
They gathered up four strands of beads—one of each shape and hideous color—and started to put them on me.
“Wait, wait! We should probably make some wishes.”
"Yeah, yeah, wishes!"
And then they started giggling. And I started giggling.
I cupped my hands around my beads and held them up. Then I put my mouth to my closed hands and started whispering, “Dear Princess Beads, when I wake up on Saturday morning…”
And the little girls followed. Their beads were spilling out and hanging down to their elbows as they whispered their princess hopes into their hands. While I was wishing for money to cover my Thin Mint bill, warmer temperatures, and better hair, the girls were whispering about more important things
“Dear Princess Beads,
I want a tiara
and the kind of puppy that a princess would have
and shoes that sparkle
and a pink snowstorm
and…
It was during this ritualistic blessing of the beads that Pierce’s mother arrived at the door and wondered what was going on.
“Hi, Amelia! It might be a good idea if you just go ahead and pick up a couple of tiaras and puppies before the end of the day tomorrow.”
As the beaded princesses got ready to leave I shouted out to them, “If you have any questions at all you can call me on Monday. My name is Martha. Just call and ask for Martha.”
Did the girls know? Yes. Did they know that the beads were beads and that we were the ones giving them magic? Yes. Did they understand how fun it was to wish and to make yourself believe? Yes. Did they know that my name is NOT Martha? Yes.
But I weally, weally hope that when they got up this morning that they also knew how happy they made me, and how truly sweet and beautiful they are—tiaras or not.
I cupped my hands around my beads and held them up. Then I put my mouth to my closed hands and started whispering, “Dear Princess Beads, when I wake up on Saturday morning…”
And the little girls followed. Their beads were spilling out and hanging down to their elbows as they whispered their princess hopes into their hands. While I was wishing for money to cover my Thin Mint bill, warmer temperatures, and better hair, the girls were whispering about more important things
“Dear Princess Beads,
I want a tiara
and the kind of puppy that a princess would have
and shoes that sparkle
and a pink snowstorm
and…
It was during this ritualistic blessing of the beads that Pierce’s mother arrived at the door and wondered what was going on.
“Hi, Amelia! It might be a good idea if you just go ahead and pick up a couple of tiaras and puppies before the end of the day tomorrow.”
As the beaded princesses got ready to leave I shouted out to them, “If you have any questions at all you can call me on Monday. My name is Martha. Just call and ask for Martha.”
Did the girls know? Yes. Did they know that the beads were beads and that we were the ones giving them magic? Yes. Did they understand how fun it was to wish and to make yourself believe? Yes. Did they know that my name is NOT Martha? Yes.
But I weally, weally hope that when they got up this morning that they also knew how happy they made me, and how truly sweet and beautiful they are—tiaras or not.
1 comment:
I love this! I need some of those princess beads!
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