The Princess and The Queen

My daughter is a diva. Seriously. This reality is slowly sinking in for me.

Let's say I'm making dinner and I pour her a drink. Let's say she gets milk in her lemon cup. I hand it to her.

"No! I want milk in my Princess cup!"
"Sarah Bradley, it's already poured. Just drink this."
"But-but- I told you wanted the princess cup!" (insert crying action here)
"Fine, fine, hang on." (pull down disney princess cup and pour milk into that) "Here you go."
Screams that can be heard for miles erupt from my child. "Not THAT princess cup! The GREEN PRINCESS CUP!"
I'm so startled by her reaction, I grab said cup and pour the milk into that.
I hand her said cup and she immediately stops screaming and says, "Thanks, Momma!" As she saunters off with the cup of her choice.
All I'm left to do is stare in her wake and mumble, "Anything you want, Princess."

This type of occurrence has become increasingly common. A lot of times it's because the conflict in question just isn't worth the time and effort into putting up a fight. You want another cup... okay. No biggie to me. You want a pink shirt and not a purple one? Sure. Not worth the screaming and fighting that would ensue if I argued.

But I see bigger things on the horizon. Giving in on her shirt will turn into buying her nothing but Ralph Lauren clothes and that will turn into buying her a $30,000 car when she's 16! It will never end!

 Oh, you want to ride your bike thru Daddy's office? Sure, no problem!

I need to learn to put my Mommy foot down. I do on bigger things (No, you can't wear your winter coat in 100* heat, Ice-cream is not for dinner, your brother is not a blank canvas to draw on...), but I need to let her know that she can't get away with everything.

I need to let Sarah Bradley know that while she may be the Princess, I am The Queen and what I say goes. I am the boss. I am the end-all, be-all in her world.

Just call me Queen Allison the Kill Joy, Mother to Princess Diva in the Twinkle Toes...