"Daddy, will you please play with me?"How can I resist when she asks so nicely?
"What do you want to play?"
"Princess dress-up."Despite my mental and masculine hesitation, I am yet to decline this royal request. For no dad of a daughter should be above donning a tiara, some plastic clip-on earrings, and a feather boa if need be. (Unfortunately for you, no such picture exists. Shockingly.) Getting in the princess groove is how we throw down in my kingdom, from time to time. (Thankfully, this is only make-believe because I would make an ugly woman.) I do it because it makes her laugh. And because she ought to know that it's ok for a boy to get his princess on if that's his thing.
But the one major perk of raising a little princess, is that most of the time, I get to be the king:
That's right. My coronation is complete. Normally royal bloodlines are formed from generations past. Not this time. I ascended to my throne by spawning royalty.
Being king means I rule. It means I get to marry the queen. And it means I get to decide who gets the princess's hand in marriage. (Ok, not really.) It also means I get to co-host on The MFP (The Mother Freakin' Princess) today. This is a unique blog by a unique blogger who was cool enough to invite me to crash on her site for a day. Please go check out my post by clicking HERE.