The Faces of a Princess

Note: included are examples of my expressive faces that I used to communicate with my family during a trip to the zoo that I wrote about previously.

I have often received comments on my face. I mean, of course I do: look at it, it's adorable.

"Hey, Daddy! Look how cute me and my toes are!"

But more than just my impeccable looks, I receive remarks on the expressions I can do with those flawless features. My subjects will tell my parents (as if they do not already know) how I look concerned or happy or confused or upset or any other number of emotions. My parents, however, are able to translate what I am saying much more effectively. 

"Why are you photographing me when you should be worshiping me?"

or

"I thought you said this would be fun."

I don't remember which thought I was having at that particular moment.

They act as if this is some strange ability I have. It may be extraordinary, but so am I. 

"I thought you said we would see animals here. I have only seen more doting subjects. Being a princess is hard, sometimes."
Yes, all of that can be expressed through a singular look.

Yet I see this as part of my duties as a princess. My Mommy taught me this by reading to me from a story called "The Princess and the Frog," (although, admittedly, I have been utilizing this talent long before she read this to me) which is about some fictitious princess who attempted to hide from her parents her odd relationship with a frog who ends up having ulterior motives, "princesses never lie." So I never bother to cover up how I feel. And, typically, the reason why I am so expressive is that I feel like my parents don't feel like they know what they are doing raising me. They do not need to worry, I am doing most of the work.

"You people paid good money to come here? Money you could have spent on me??"

I was born proficient at nonverbal communication, and have always found it more effective than verbal. Yesterday, for example, we went to a bookstore, which, in case you do not know, is a cramped little place that smells old and is packed full of books without pictures that are thus unreadable. Mommy and Daddy loved it, and told me that I would love it as well some day. I verbally disagreed, so they shoved a pacifier in my mouth. I'm not complaining about the pacifier, it was delightful, I just mean to say that the King and Queen tend to win verbal disagreements without saying much.

"Can we go now? This bores me."

And so I use my face to express how I feel, and I do so in a blunt way.

"We traveled all this way just for me to play with my toes. I could be doing the same thing in a nice air-conditioned palace."

Perhaps one day I will be as good of a verbal communicator as my Mommy and Daddy. I must admit, it may be my only flaw. No, I do not believe it is my flaw, I'm flawless, I believe that everyone just fails to understand my well conceived and delivered arguments. 

"Can I have a drink from your bottle?"

So while I wait for all of you to mature to the point of understanding my verbal statements which appear to just go over your heads, I will continue utilizing my God-given talent of facial expressions to get my way. Because my way is the only way that matters, right?

"Oh, thank you for the new toy, Daddy!"

Thank you for agreeing.

Love,

Princess Ellie

Nearly 5 months

Further Proof That I Am a Princess

Daddy did this photo for me to prove my princessness. No need to bow, it is only a picture.

How to Eat Like a Princess

While I know that I am a newcomer to this whole eating craze, I must say that I believe I have mastered it. I mean this in relation to drinking from a bottle and eating the viscous liquids off of spoons which are mislabeled as solids.

Drinking

I used to do this incorrectly. Even before I came to the realization that those larger than me expected me to reach out, grab, and hold things, I would position my fists beneath the bottle and attempt to help in the process. This was a mistake, and I know that now that I have the full capability to hold the bottle for my parents. The real way to enjoy formula is to do it dramatically. I have a few basic means by which I accomplish this endeavor.

1. Throw the back of my hands over my eyes. This shows how I am just too exhausted to hold the bottle myself, and proves to whomever it may be that is feeding me that they must do all of the work for me. It is quite effective, and they have not tried to force me to hold the bottle in awhile.

2. Act as if I am singing a fiercely dramatic ballad. This requires a concentrated face, or closed eyes, but the most important factor is what I am doing with my hand. I reach out beyond the bottle with my fingers wide as if to grab something, such as a lost love or my future dreams, close it into a fist, and bring it back to my chest. I do this repeatedly. This proves my inability to hold the bottle as I am too busy practicing for my future career as a pop singer.

3. Pretend to have an emotional breakdown by crying, wiggling, screaming, fussing, and kicking in the middle of the bottle. Obviously, I am too distraught to be bothered with something as trivial as holding a bottle. This one backfires at times as they believe I no longer want to eat. No no, people, that will never be a problem: it can safely be assumed that I want to eat.

4. Smile and talk. I'm too cute to work.

Eating

This is just one of many places where I believe I have fully outsmarted all of my subjects and even the Royal Family. They - and I am sure you do as well - falsely believe the best means by which to eat off of a spoon is to just grab spoon and shove it into their mouths like some sort of animal or barbarian. This is not correct. Do not worry, I did not know that it was incorrect either, as I had always stared intently at their way of eating and assumed it was correct. No no, the real way to eat from a spoon is to lift it up to your lips - or, if you are a princess such as myself (which I doubt you are, no offense) have somebody else lift it to your lips - and then take the food the rest of the way with your tongue. Mommy says that I am lapping it up like a dog. Again, I do not know what a dog is, but I do believe them to be very regal individuals and that we would get along.

The hardest part of this endeavor is training the person who is feeding you to do this. If you are facing this problem as well, simply keep your mouth clamped shut. When they bring the food next to your mouth, attempting to jam it in through your lips, stick out your tongue and retrieve some of the (hopefully) delectable morsels. But if food is shoveled unceremoniously into your mouth, push it back out with your tongue. Do not worry about the mess, any good servant or parent will clean it up for you. Don't forget to fight them when they do attempt to clean up, it makes it more of a challenge for them, and servants/parents love a little extra challenge in their lives.

Love,

Princess Ellie

Kisses and Desks

There is a very important part of every princess's life. The moment usually defines the story of the princess and is the climactic moment of her existence. It is pivotal, it is breathtaking, and it happened to me this week: I was kissed for the first time. On the lips. By a boy a little older than me. On purpose, and not the accidental type that happen when I turn my head as my daddy tries to kiss my cheek. And to tell you the truth, it was not what I thought it would be: it was just a boy shoving his lips on mine when his parents told him to. Perhaps I just won't count that one and wait for the stars, the butterflies, the birds singing, and other things I have never actually witnessed and have no clue as to why I have this preconceived notion about first kisses as I've never seen a princess movie. I don't know if I really want to marry him, either, as he and his sister seemed to have a little too much energy for my liking and disturbed me from having a peaceful evening. I am also not quite sure whether or not he is of royal blood, so that would rule him out as a possible suitor. I think that they were performers there for my enjoyment, so I watched them as such, but then they demanded a little too much audience participation for my liking. Like most people, they did not understand the concept that princesses do not appreciate being poked in the face or patted or any other egregious violations of my personal bubble. It is alright, however, I have a long list of possible future Mr. Eleanor Gates' in the pool. This one is also not out of the picture yet, he may just require some refinement. And some money.

Some may wonder how it is that I know that I am a princess. It is simple: It's just true. Daddy calls me a princess, I am carried everywhere I go as if on some sort of low-budget litter (I have to talk to the Royal Family about getting it updated with a bed and being carried on people's shoulders), I have a throne, and everyone does what I ask them when I ask them to do it. It does appear to be lost in translation, however, as they at times carry me where I never told them to take me, but I have learned that I might as well go along for the ride and see what entertainment they are introducing me to next. I only complain once they take me wherever it is, as I humor them up until the moment they lay me down. The closest thing I have to a litter right now is my carriage seat, and I do not appreciate being strapped and restrained into that. My throne is referred to by my parents as a Bumbo, which I find astoundingly unprofessional. I usually get upset while in there, and they interpret that to mean that I do not like sitting on my throne, but I am actually just bossing them around like any good monarch sitting on a throne does. I sat in it just today, with its desk attached, and enjoyed watching my parents work in the kitchen as if servants as I barked orders and shook my keys at them, demanding to be driven somewhere scenic. When they did not understand my message, I attempted to throw the desk, but it was fairly securely attached, no matter how easily they made its removal appear. Daddy simply took pictures of me, so I stopped my smiling so that I appeared more serious and regal. He kept encouraging me to smile, and I would acquiesce, but only until the shot was being taken. I am so good at being a monarch.

Love,

Princess Ellie

The Parents Strike Back

So, in my last entry, I detailed how I meticulously tamper with the lives of my parents solely for my own entertainment. This may have seemed cruel, and unladylike, but I can assure you that they started the sadistic cycle. I have mentioned some of the things that they do in the past, such as mocking my complaints, but there are some others I feel you need to be caught up on in order to fully understand the suffering I endure at the hands of these loving maniacs.

1. The singing

When I begin to list my complaints from the backseat of the carriage, my parents attempt to assuage my discomfort by singing. I always fall silent when they do so, and they foolishly believe they have succeeded in making me content once more. On the contrary, their singing simply frightens me into silence. They not only sing then, but other times in the carriage as well, and it is always unsettling, especially since there is the possibility that others may hear them. Have they no shame? They sing in unison at times, but then they start on these duets, where Daddy sings the boy part and Mommy sings the girl. These are so ridiculously cheesy that I can barely stand it. But that is not the worst part. They sometimes switch parts, or just sing unison on a high pitched song. Daddy seems to think it's hilarious to sing falsetto. He will even do this in Church to sing unison with Mommy's part. He thinks he's being quiet so nobody can hear. I can hear, Daddy, and you're not only embarrassing me but yourself as well.

They also sing to me before I go to bed, but I figure we are safe inside of our home so I allow myself to smile politely at the beautiful words and horrible singing.

2. The kissing.

The fact that they kiss each other at any chance they get is demeaning enough, but then they have to nearly constantly feel the desire to kiss me on the cheek, the head, the nose, the forehead, the eyeball? I give them very obvious signs that I am not interested in all of those physical signs of affection, just as I am uninterested in the cuddling, but they just keep on trying.

3. Speaking back to me or for me

Mommy often does this thing where I will be giving quite the eloquent monologue and she will say things like "I know, honey," or "And then what happened?" First of all, if you knew, why would I be telling you? And when I am telling a story, let us face it: you are always with me. You know what happened next! I am simply putting it in my own words, and would appreciate to not be interrupted.

Then there are other times where they just repeat what I say, attempting to speak for me. I can speak for myself, thank you very much, and you saying exactly what I said proves that you know what I said the first time. So stop pretending to not know what "agoooaahhoogrr" means.

4. Turning me away from the magic box

This is actually a good portion of the reason why I learned to roll. They can't tell me when it is "developmentally appropriate" to watch television! I am a princess, and I deserve to be able to see that bright, colorful screen with all of its swirling shapes and funny noises.

5. Blowing on my belly

Daddy, and Mommy at times, too, do this thing where they put their mouths on my belly, and, as if that wasn't weird enough, blow so that my belly makes an unflattering flatulence noise. I really have no clue how I can get these people to understand the concept of "princess".

6. Eating in front of me

I know I cannot feed myself, so why do you tyrants have to rub it in my face?

7. Mock me with their superior head control

They make it look like it is easy.

8. They removed my mirror from my crib

Just when I figured out how to look at it, too.

9. Tell me how cute I am when I am crying

I know I'm adorable. That is just not the time to tell me.

10. Transcribe this diary without allowing me to do the typing

I could totally type this myself, see?  xxxxxxxxxxxxxjfbxchbbbbbbbbbbbdddddddddddddddce 

Love, your embarrassed monarch,

Princess Ellie

Pranking the Parents

So I have a few ongoing jokes I am pulling with my parents. This may seem like a harsh way to treat my Mommy and Daddy, a Queen and a King, but as a Princess is higher ranked than either of those positions (that is how a monarchy works, right?) and they have been teasing me as well, I do not feel that it is inappropriate to return the favor.

Prank 1: Pretend to change what I think is funny/entertaining

This is my personal favorite. My Mommy and Daddy do all that they can to keep me entertained, and I do mean all that they can. Those two make the most RIDICULOUS noises! It's hilarious! Other people do, too! I have a great entertainment line-up constantly floating around me. But to keep them on their toes, and making increasingly far-fetched noises, faces, and gestures, I only allow myself to laugh the first time, or perhaps a second time a week or two later. You would not believe the crazy "Boop boop boop" "brrrrooooobrrrrooooo" "beeboobeeboo" "cootchylootchyrootchyroo" and other things these people will say. Even if I could not do any of the other pranks, I would be happy with just this one. Thankfully, my life is not that restricted and boring.

Prank 2: Stop doing something right when it is to be shown off, recorded, or photographed

I can do some pretty incredible stuff, but I do not perform my acts for just anybody. It is also hilarious to watch my parents get frustrated with how selective I am on my feats. For example, I used to sigh every time that I sneezed. Just a little "Achoo-aahhh" just to demonstrate how freaking adorable I am. I kept this up for a week, during which time Mommy and Daddy told everyone about it. So, right when my Little Grandma came to visit, I stopped completely. Mommy and Daddy were flabbergasted, but best of all, I think Little Grandma thinks they're crazy now. They are.

Prank 3: Blinking when being photographed

Daddy is very particular about his photos, which makes it very easy to mess with him. All I have to do is wait until I see his finger begin to press harder onto the big button on top of the camera and then blink. It throws him off every time! He says I look drunk in those photos, but I'm sure I look just as adorable as ever. No amount of blinking could mess up this perfect face.

Prank 4: Pretending like I don't like snuggles

This is usually pretty easy to get away with, and is not usually a prank. When I get really tired, however, all I want to do is snuggle, and it's all that the audience wants as well, so that is EXACTLY what I won't give them. The only problem is that when I do get this tired, I tend to lose track of the goal and snuggle in, but only for a moment before I remember the bigger picture and pop my head back up again, pretending like it never happened.

Prank 5: Acting like I did not mean to do whatever it is I did

Good examples of this include: knocking things over, dropping things I still want to play with, grabbing Mommy's hair, making the world spin until I'm on my tummy, and just about everything else on this list. The most important part about this, as it is with all good jokes, is the delivery. Sustained eye contact the whole time is important. I have also heard it is necessary with all acting to really get into the role. Sometimes, I DON'T actually mean to do what I do. Acting.

Prank 6: Holding in bowel movements until right after a diaper is changed

Ha. Classic. Works best with cloth diapers.

Prank 7: Becoming more active when laid down for a nap

Step 1 - Rub eyes and act lethargic. Step 2 - Wait until they lay me down in my royal bedchambers. Step 3 - WIGGLE LIKE CRAZY AND MAKE LOTS OF HAPPY NOISES! Step 4 - Smile wryly.

Prank 8: Sarcastic remarks

This has proven to be less effective than it is when they use it on me, as they do not seem to understand what I say. It's a shame, because I get in some pretty good zingers.

Prank 9: Crying when they give me what I want

I've been doing this one forever. "I WANT MY PACIFIER! WHY ARE YOU GIVING ME A PACIFIER??" "I WANT FOOD! WHAT IS THIS DELICIOUS LIQUID YOU'RE PUTTING IN MY MOUTH??" I think this is what they call irony.

Prank 10: Be uncomfortable with the positions I put myself in

This is the newest trick I've learned, and goes along with my last entry. All I have to do is wait until they are out of the room, make the world spin until I am on my belly, and then cry until they spin me back so I can do it all over again. Suckers. I started by only doing this occasionally, but now that I really have the hang of controlling the world, I figure "Hey, why not do this ALL OF THE TIME!" Mommy says that the 12+ times I did it last night was far too much. Just wait, Mommy, just you wait. You think you're sleep deprived now? Wait until I've fully tricked you into having MORE CHILDREN. This princess wants others in the royal family to rule over. Who knows? Maybe I'll teach them some of my tricks.

Your (mostly) Benevolent Monarch,
Princess Ellie

The World Revolves Around Me

Literally, the world does revolve around me. It used to be just an expression, and now it's true! Last week I realized that the world would tilt on its side when I was reaching for my toes. Toes? I forgot about those. I wonder where they are now... Anyway, now I love to make the world spin. Sadly, however, the world always malfunctions halfway through its rotation, and often gets stuck before it even reaches halfway. Somebody really needs to look into getting that fixed. In the meantime, I do like being able to be on my side, at least for a few moments, but I do not like it when the world stops rotating and I am stuck on my stomach. Why does it have to stop there? It's not so bad for sleeping, but it is bothersome, and somewhat demeaning, to have to ask for some assistance getting the world to tilt so I am back on my back. It is also scary to awake and find the world upside down. I'll admit, I do cry and tear up a little bit when that happens. But one of the best parts about this whole thing is that Mommy hates it! That's why I try not to make the world rotate unless it is the most inconvenient for her, just to scare her a little. For example, if she lays me on my blanket and tells me to make the world spin, I, of course, refuse to do so. Instead, I wait until I am being changed, the video camera is not on, or when I am in my crib. This doctor my parents insist on taking me to see, along with others as well, claim that sleeping on my tummy is bad for me. So my Mommy make sure to lie me on my back in my crib. I watch her leave the room, smiling at her all the way, and then flip goes the world! She must feel ridiculous coming back into the room, walking on the wall, and finding me on my side or back. She always make the world spin back and then I just flip it back over. Silly Mommy, someday she will learn that I have all of the power.

Food Report

I have been watching the royal family members and other loyal subjects create and ingest food since I was very small with rapt attention. I always stared and wondered how delicious their delicacies were, as my parents appeared to thoroughly enjoy all that they ate almost as much as they enjoyed my presence. Almost. But my first attempt with eating food besides the Formula of Happiness nearly turned me away from the whole endeavor. The royal family gathered around me after having spoken about this joyous moment all of the previous day and placed in front of me my very own bowl and began to ladle into my mouth some inedible looking orange goo. I was frightened by its appearance but knew from all that I had seen and heard from my family that this would be a moment to be cherished in the annals of history. I opened my mouth wide and accepted the morsel onto my tongue...it was revolting. They laughed. The sadists. I know for sure that whatever it is that they attempted to cram down my gullet is not at all close to the cuisine they feast upon. I know it sounds harsh to say that they tried to "cram it down my gullet," but that is quite literally what happened. I allowed a few more mouthfuls, showing vividly my dislike of the horrible substance, but when it became clear that they were not about to stop by facial complaints alone, I closed my jaw, barricading my mouth with a fierceness that not even the battering ram of a spoon could pass. I even attempted to utilize my previously stated theory of my limbs impacting what happens with my mouth and batted the spoon out of my mother's, the Queen's, hand. But she just kept on trying. Sadistic or not, she is persistent. The King (for this post, I will refer to them by their titles, as they seem to be undeserving of the parental titles for their blasphemous deeds against their princess) did nothing to relieve my distress, and documented the entire ordeal through photographs, and even wrangled my otherwise perfect Little grandmother into recording it through means of video. It was altogether a disturbing experience.

But then I had some again later and it was grand. This was different than the last time. Mother theorizes it is because she mixed it with delicious rice cereal and Formula of Happiness and the sauce of apples and sweet potatoes (again, the species of adults deem it fit to utilize irony in their naming of things, including foods, as these sweet potatoes were not half as sweet as the droplets of goodness my mother and grandmother put on their fingers and into my mouth after visits to ice cream parlors), while my daddy thinks it might be because it was after a bottle the first time and I like it better before a bottle. They are both incorrect. The first food was just gross. That is all. Now I open my mouth wide for any substance they believe necessary for me to eat, and it is all delicious. I do not know why they were holding back for four months. I was ready long before that hack they took me to a few days ago said so. They never listen to me.

Now that I have conquered food for two whole days, I believe I am now ready for the dark brown substance known as chocolate to which they often refer, revere, and sneak into their mouths with pleasure when the other is not looking. I will request this tomorrow, and accept nothing other than their full obedience. I am a princess, and I have spoken.

Love,
Princess Ellie

Post Script: It has come to my attention that, at times, when I reach for my feet, the world tilts onto one side. This is odd, and I do not know how to remedy it. Sometimes I do not notice until I have become distracted from my feet, but it always results in me needing help from the elder members of the Royal Family. They are so wise at times. If only that would last to the moments I need it most, like when I cry out for chocolate. In an attempt to practice demanding chocolate, tonight I demanded some intermittently at a conference about food, specifically steak. Nobody took my demands seriously. Figures. There will be another conference tomorrow, hopefully on chocolate, and I will attempt my feat once more there. One day, the world will learn to listen to its princess or else feel the wrath of my grumpy face.

4 Months!

I have been shot again. Or at least I think I was. I forgot pretty quickly. I'm okay now. 

I was also weighed and measured at the doctor's office, and I am now 14.5 lbs and 25.5 inches! The doctor said that that is a little longer and heavier than others like me. She also had the audacity to say that this is usually a "chubby" time for people my age but that I will lose weight as I get more active. This hack does not understand that I am perfect; the majority of people of a similar age are just underweight and short. I have no "chubby phases", standards just change at times. I'm a princess, and this is my ruling. Don't argue.

I can eat foods now! Now I can be as cool as all of the big people I watch eat. I have studied their form and hope to enjoy it as much as they do. I have been waiting for this moment since I could remember, which was a few moments ago. 

I have come to the conclusion that the doctor is a person parents take their princesses to in order to weigh and measure me, which I know they could have done themselves, and otherwise find information I could have told them. Then they stab me. I think they put some sort of liquid into my body. Maybe it was meant to make me forget. If so, it worked.

So I discovered something called "toes!" Did you know about these? I doubt it. Check this out: when I lift my legs, these toes appear! And they are just barely within reach! And when I grab them, I feel something on my feet! It's fascinating! I play with them whenever I see them. I don't know why it is that I feel something on my feet when I touch these toes. I have a theory, but I know it sounds crazy, but hear me out: What if what my hands do and feel, and what my feet do and feel, and what my face does and feels, etc., is connected? As another example, I will reference the times that I grab something with my hands. When I do so, (or sometimes the following occurs when I do not have anything in my hands) I just keep lifting my arms. Suddenly, there's this thing on my mouth. So I open my mouth and start chomping and sucking on whatever is there. More often than not, however, its taste is less-than-delightful and has a weird texture (and if its my fingers, my fingers suddenly feel wet, crushed, and sucked on). Then, when I move my hands, the weird tasting thing is gone. I am no culinary expert, especially since I only ever have formula, but I know generally that those things that go in my mouth are inedible. Or there are times when the delightful pacifier is removed from my mouth the same time that my hands have grabbed something and started waving it around. I try to tell my family about my discoveries, especially when my fingers feel the wet sucking the same time that my mouth is sucking on something, but they seem to miss how terribly exciting it is to discover such a thing. I have been curious as to their intelligence in the past, perhaps they have not come to the same theory that I have.

Otherwise, the last week or so has included a ton of seeing people. My Little Grandma (or is it Grandma Little?) visited and has been staying with us. Every day we have been going to see relatives, such as an Aunt Patti, an Aunt Judy, an Uncle Tom, an Uncle Don, and a Great-Grandma Jan (I don't know if Great-Grandma Jan realizes her name does not rhyme with the others.) We got to see a lot of cool stuff, like this place they just pushed me around in forever called a zoo. They seemed excited, but it seemed to just be a park full of people and weird noises and smells. They also took me to an aquarium, which was cool! If you have never been, you should go. It's this place with see-through walls and these animals without wings fly around you. It is like the glowy box with the bouncy, floating ROKU called a TV but bigger, with more bouncy, floating things. I could have stayed and stared at that forever. Or at least until my next nap. Which is exactly what I did. I loved seeing all of the people, but it also meant a lot of people holding me and my parents putting me to bed in a strange place, waking me up, driving me in the chariot, and then expecting me to go to sleep in my own bed and be happy about the whole situation (which, for the most part, I was. I like to make things simple for my parents.)

Life is great, except for that constant itching in my mouth that cold chewy things help.

Love,

Princess Ellie