A Princess and Two Thrones

In order to fold a queen bed sheet, I extended my arms wide and stepped to one side - and in so doing, peered out the laundry room door.  There sat a tiny-but-regal Miss Princess on her throne, a tall wooden chair intended for a bar stool, swinging her bare feet.  Her crown of curly blonde locks coiled in every direction like old-fashioned bedsprings. She looked like a delicate little fairy-person eagerly waiting to be acknowledged, and maybe dubbed, by some royal queen.

Something important was up.  Her expression said so. 

So far she didn’t see me, so I held my position, peeking over the top of the sheet.  She pointed into the kitchen and said something to her mother with great gusto and urgency.  I couldn’t understand her words, but knew whatever-they-were mattered greatly. Her tone was pleasant but insistent, and her expression brightened with full-blown expectancy as she was offered a huge stainless steel bowl filled to the top with various colors.

“Pick one - just one,” her mother said.

I didn’t know it yet, but she was being rewarded with her choice of a trick-or-treat candy for a grand achievement: pooping in the potty chair.  She’d finished her job on the little upstairs throne and come down to this one for her treat.

She labored over the decision for about ten seconds, which is a long time when you’re facing a huge stash of candy that belongs not only to you, but also your sisters and your four cousins.   Finally she selected an orange Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup (smart girl) and began intently tearing open the wrapper.

For just a moment she looked up from her task, recognized my eyes peeking over the sheet, and yipped a little I-see-you-hiding squeal. I dropped my camouflage and grinned.  She flashed her signature smile-to-melt-your-heart, giggled with delight, crawled down from her throne with candy in hand, and dashed into the sunny afternoon with blonde curls bouncing, leaving me standing there, sheet draped on the floor, relishing the after-glow.