Charming and cute the first twenty times I watched it, Disney’s highest grossing animated film of all time has officially worn out its welcome in my home. Frozen has transformed my innocent, tone deaf little girls into hip-swaying, mane-stroking, crotch-high-slit wearing pageant princesses and I am officially one Let It Go rendition away from the booby hatch.
I have two daughters who are 15 months apart in age and light years apart in personality. The older daughter, Anna, is built like a stack of cinder blocks and is steadfast, focused and in-charge. Anna harbors no secrets; what you see is what you get. Maggie, the younger daughter, is a tender little bird whose main purpose in life is to forage for food and report to me on all perceived injustices. But, Maggie is capable of being unexpectedly insightful and cunning, and she is not to be underestimated.
Different as they are, they have in common a compulsion to be Elsa. But being Elsa isn’t enough. It’s also critical that nobody else is Elsa. I’ve told them that, when playing make-believe, everyone can be Elsa, including the boys, but sharing the role is not an option for reasons I don’t understand and they can’t explain.
To make things worse, my older daughter is named Anna (rhymes with banana) and looks like the girl from Wendy’s so she’s an obvious choice to play the character Anna. Before I even took the girls to see the movie, we saw the Frozen paraphernalia at Target and I thought How perfect! I have an Anna with braided red hair and my other daughter has blonde-ish hair and won’t this just be the easiest thing ever because their hair matches the characters and they’re sisters and they love each other!
FALSE. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Once my girls saw Elsa strut her shit ($0.25) in that ice castle while belting out those now-famous words of independence and freedom, they were all like Anna who? For the last nine months these girls have bickered and scrapped over who gets to be Elsa. Who gets the Elsa doll; who gets to color the Elsa picture; who gets to wear the Elsa dress; who gets the cupcake that has the Elsa decoration on top at the umpteenth Frozen-themed birthday party we’ve attended. It’s a daily crisis that I can either manage or let them duke it out in a Thunderdome fight to the death.
So, this morning, when I was brushing Maggie’s golden hair, she told me she wanted her hair in one braid in the back. As I obligingly prepared to French braid her wild curls, she said, “I want Anna to have two braids.” This surprised me because Maggie had never before cared how Anna wore her hair. Weird!
As I struggled to get my fingers through Maggie’s unfortunate frizz, Anna shuffled over and asked me what I was doing with Maggie’s hair. Again confused by Anna’s sudden interest in Maggie’s hair, I told her that Maggie wanted one braid today and that Maggie thought Anna should wear her hair in two braids and wasn’t that thoughtful of her? I had no idea where these little girls were going with these very pointed questions.
With one whiny outburst, all truths were revealed …
Anna erupted. “Well that’s because she wants to be Elsa! And I already said I was Elsa today!”
And then Maggie erupted. “But she got to be Elsa yesterday and today it’s my turn!”
And then I erupted to just myself. YOU GUYS ARE DICKS ($0.25)!
After nine months of this bullshit ($0.25) I’ve become adept at internalizing minor annoyances into small ulcers. At this point I’m pretty sure my guts are Swiss cheese.
I took a deep breath through the nose and exhaled forcefully. There wasn’t a snowflake’s chance in Hell that I was going to style hair that basically amounted to choosing one daughter over the other in a game of Who Can Be The Most Petty, Manipulative Wench. I wadded their hair into elastic bands and marched them to the couch where I made them sit and hold hands until they loved each other again.
There is so much dumb in this scenario. First, as I’ve told them before, you can both be Elsa at the same damn time! The universe imposes no limits! Second, when you are playing make-believe, the character you pretend to be does not have to bear any physical resemblance to you (which is how I’ve convinced myself that Taylor Swift is actually singing in my shower each morning). Finally, what difference does it make what your hair looks like or who has been officially crowned Elsa for the day? When Elsa starts that trek up the North Mountain to do her thing, you’re both going to stand in front of my TV and sing that fucking ($0.25) song anyway.
Total owed to the swear jar for this post: $1.00
If you like this then you’ll probably get a kick out of Frozen: Top 10 Reasons I’m Over It …