How I Know I'm not the Queen

We rarely eat fast food. I don't really like the food, and I don't like feeding Cinderella anything that unhealthy.

The last time we got anything from a fast food restaurant, Cinderella got this silly pair of antlers in her meal. They look something like this:
Okay; not really, but you get the idea. It was a pair of antlers, with ears, attached to a head band.

Utterly ridiculous.

Until you remember where I live.

Anyway, the other day Cinderella was playing her favorite game of "Princess," and I was all excited, thinking I might get to be the Queen.

I thought wrong.

I wasn't even the bad step-sister, like usual.

Oh no.

I was the Prince.

This is usually my husband's role.

He wasn't home.

To crown me the Prince, Cinderella insisted I wear a crown of deer antlers.

Oh, joy!

I may not be the Queen, but I was the Prince for about 10 minutes.

I think I'll keep looking.


And yes, that is the tag sticking out of the front of Cinderella's shirt. She insisted on wearing it backwards.

She's three.

'Nough said.