Explaining The Mall Santa Will Be Rough This Year

So today Princess Elizabeth and I went to a "Fairy Tale Tea" with Cinderella as hostess at the Magic House. Sounds like fun, right? All the girls decked out in their full princess gear, tea with petit fours and other cute tea accoutrements, a beautiful Cinderella acting out parts of the story...

Uh, yeah, this is where the story goes south.

You see, I'm apparently operating under the completely mistaken idea that Princess Elizabeth is four. Oh, she may be four according to her birth certificate and my c-section scar, but let me tell you, that kid's pushing 30, at the bare minimum.

Everyone who meets her says she's an old soul - and they're right. She's completely annoyed with the fact that she has to waste her time next year going to kindergarten - she politely informs me every time we pass a school of any kind that she wants to go to college. Now. When I say, "Let's try elementary school first," she says, and I quote, "What a waste of time!" complete with an eye roll straight from Bette Davis in "All About Eve."

Needless to say, I'm sure the first day of kindergarten next fall will be, shall we say, a challenge.

Anyway, back to the story. Keep in mind we've recently been to Disney World and dined with Cinderella there on more than one occasion. In talking up the Magic House's tea party, I said that Cinderella was coming all the way from her castle at the Magic Kingdom to host the party.

Big mistake.

When Cinderella (a beautiful blond young lady) walks out today, every other little girl in the room shrieks with delight, oohs and ahhs over her beauty, yada yada. Princess Elizabeth? She cocks her head, frowns, raises an eyebrow (I am not exaggerating in the slightest) and says to me, "Mom, that does not look like Cinderella."

What do I say? The oh-so-lame "Well, maybe Cinderella has a sister, and she asked her to fill in today." (Yeah, did I mention I'm really bad at thinking fast on my feet?) The Princess looks at me and says, with a dramatic sigh and a Mom-is-so-tiresome tone, "I don't think so, Mom."

So, I buckled under pressure. I spilled my guts. If there's ever a threat that I'll be captured by the enemy and spill state secrets, just shove the cyanide pill down my throat - believe me, it'll be better that way.

I say to her, "Ok, here's the deal. No, that's not the real Cinderella - she's can't get away from the castle so close to the holidays. But hey, this Cinderella is really pretty, and Prince Charming is a hunk and - hey, are those petit fours they're putting down in front of us now?"

The only thing that's going to get me to this child's 18th birthday is our shared love of chocolate. I'm going to put away a stash of Reese's Cups now so I can be ready for the "where do babies really come from?" question - and no, I'm so not above distracting the Princess with chocolate to avoid answering sticky questions. Hey, just because I work in communications, that does not mean I can actually communicate.

I can, however, set the land-speed record for unwrapping Reese's Cups in a crisis situation.