We're home from Orlando...the epicenter of all things mouse...
and weird things were a happenin',
I was actually called "Princess" this week.
I never go to the front desk of any hotel we stay at, I always sit and wait patiently in whatever vehicle we arrive in, usually our trusty ole mini-van...don't know why I never go in, I just don't.
But this trip I decided I wanted to go in and check out the lobby of the theme park hotel Mark's company had so graciously provided, and so I went in with Mark to the front desk...and that's where it happened...
As we were being asked all the pertinent information for our stay, like the birthdate of our housecat and the speed in which we traveled down I-4, our clerk turned to me and asked...
"And what is your name, Princess?"
Now being a 'almost' 43 year old woman, and this being a theme park that wants to create an 'experience' for its guests, I fully understand that this twentysomething gal certainly had not mistaken me for Diana, or Fergie for that matter. But when that question came out of her mouth, and the fact that she had said it with a straight face, I have to admit I was a little surprised.
I think I might have even giggled my response,
Where did that come from?
Did that really come out of this mouth? This mouth that only hours earlier had barked orders around the house like a drill sergeant?
Was that me, giggling?
I thought about my response later that day, and it occurred to me that I think every woman wants to be called a princess once in her life...my moment just happened to occur in the lobby of a hotel, as I was surrounded by crying 5 year olds and old men walking around in sandals with black socks.