“I’m Snow White!”

“And I’m the Angry Sisters!”

It didn’t take long for the all-pervasive Disney Princess marketing machine to thunder into our lives. One day your taking your little girls to see a panto of Cinderella or relaxing the rules on TV and letting them watch Snow White, and Bam! Disney has you by the alice band.

Or rather, they’ve got my little girls; who’s captivation with princess dresses, “clip-clop shoes”, handsome princes and evil stepmothers was ignited so fast I can’t help suspect it was there all along.

Of course, the fact that while Evie is firmly Cinderella and Scarlett refused to answer to any name but Snow White, Jemima floats happily between more active roles gives me some comfort. One day she’s Buttons, another The Prince, or The Old Woman (of poisoned apple fame) or an Angry Sister (Cinderella’s) or even, on occassion, both Angry Sisters.

Still, I’ve met enough three and four year olds now to realise that fighting this thing is probably futile. Their preschool has a rack of obscenely fussy, luridly coloured dresses. Each party we attend is populated by at least three each of Snow White, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty and, um, Awake Beauty (?). The other little girls all seem to know most of the films. There’s no escaping it.

My reservations come from the nature of these stories. The heoines (if you can even call them that) are just so incredibly passive. They may have the fairy tale named after them but few of them actually do anything except act dutifully and get persecuted by fate (generally in the form of their stepmother). The virtues they promote are so subservient. Both Snow White and Cinderella start off being reduced to house maids and the fact that they accept this role with a smile and a song to every passing bluebird (whaty is it with Walt Disney and bluebirds – they’re everywhere) is seen as a virtue. No standing up for themsleves or making their own way in the world for these girls. They get knocked about by the cruel winds of fortune for a bit then some prince comes along and gives them the chance to live happily ever after. Are these really good role models for 21st century women? Sleeping Beauty is so passive she spends most of her story asleep. Snow White mops a few floors, escapes one murder attempt, is taken in by some midgets in exchange for more housework, then is bumped off successfully on the second attempt. Cinderella is little more than a pawn, first accepting the dictates of her sisters and stepmother, then the fairy godmother. At least Beauty has a bit of vim about her, taking her father’s place in the beast’s castle. But even then the best she can manage is to sacrifice herself.

Watching my girls play illustates it perfectly. “Let’s play Snow White,” suggests Scarlett before collapsing on the floor. A moment later, looking a little bored, “she opens her eyes and informs her sisters,” I’ve eaten the poisoned apple. Jemima – you be the Prince and kiss me.” Despite being the main character in the story she doesn’t get to do anything until the Prince comes along.

Where’s the heroine who is strong, brave, stands up for herself, forges her own destiny, goes out and gets a prince if she wants one?

No, as much as my little girls are enchanted by them, I can’t help but feel distinctly uncomfortable about the messages they’re imparting. And that’s withut even touching on what a bad idea it is to tell triplets stories about having two ugly sisters (as in Cinderella and the story version of Beauty and the Beast).

I’ll endevour to post some more soon. The girls are apoplectic with excitement over Christmas being just one week away.

“Shall we get out of bed,
No-o-o-o-o-o-OH,
Because we won’t get
An i-i-i-i-i-icecream”

to the tune of Once I Caught a Fish Alive.

I’m listening to them chat and sing to one another one the baby monitor, and can’t help finding that particular snippet hopeful.

It’s their first night in Big Grown Up Girl Beds tonight and, as you might have guessed, we are employing the most powerful of all incentives to encourage them to stay there all night… ice cream.

…

Hm. It’s five minutes later and I’ve just come back downstairs. Evie saying “stay in bed, Mima,” in a worried voice was all the clue I needed. When I went in, Jemima was stood by the window flapping the curtain to make shadows. I put her back in bed with a firm reminder of what’s at stake, what constitutes naughty behaviour (getting out of bed and pulling the curtains) and what good behaviour is (you guessed it – staying in bed and not pulling in the curtains – hey it never hurts to give clear messages).

Unfortunately, it appears Scarlett doesn’t need to leave bed to pull the curtains, forcing a second trip into their room to explain that pulling the curtains is without getting out of bed is also naughty behaviour. Hm. I sense a lawyer in the making.

Anyway, now they appear to be playing a game where they take it in turns to count to ten quicly. Apparently this is hilarious when you’re three. Oh, well, as long as they’re in their beds while they do it.

Their beds. Although not even full-sized, they girls looked tiny in them, lying on their new pillows, under their new duvets, suddenly seeming so grown up and yet too small to be so.

I don’t think that any of them understood what was going to happen properly until tonight. Not even when we all went out to buy duvet covers last weekend. They were just interested in the pictures.

We’d laid out the varous designs on the floor for them to choose from: butterflies, fairy princesses, pink stars and rainbows, pink love hearts. Sure, they were excited as they each carried their choices to the tills, but I don’t think they connected the blue space alien, robot and dinosaur designs they’d picked with a complete change in their sleeping arrangements.

Not until this afternoon when they saw the beds all made up and their rickety, old cots gone. They were so enthralled, in fact, that Tettie asked if she could go to sleep in her bed there and then, although it was only three in the afternoon.

The question is, will all three go to sleep in their beds here and now… at half past seven?