The fake hair. I have to admit to feeling a shiver of Jon-Benet Ramsey-ish weirdness at this point, but it passed, because it was, after all, Halloween, and there was no makeup or any false teeth or scantily-clad sexy dancing involved.
Here began the demonstrations by Princess Isabella of Proper Princess Comportment. A true princess must be able to appear regal and thoughtful...as well as know when to employ a demure, shy, attitude...and when to play it coy.
And you never know--I mean, you just never, ever know, when an intense diplomatic brouhaha might be diffused by a well-timed regal rendition
of the "Electric Slide".
When it's time to depart, you summon your lady-in-waiting to bring your wrap,
give your courtly curtsy one last quick run-through, and call your footman to fetch you through the rain to your carriage, lest your dainty feet get wet.
Now, here is where things can go awry, even for the most well-behaved princess. As a rule, princesses are not patient, and ours is no exception. She and her entourage arrived at the home of Cousin Grayson, Aunt Andrea, and Uncle Chip, where some unanticipated (by her highness) WAITING occurred. Oops. This is when things began to go bad. We're all lucky to have escaped with our heads.
The first thing to go was the smile, and then the tiara. And then the fake hair. And then the ponytail. And then the petticoat, sash, dress, tights, and shoes. What we had at this point was a 3-year-old wearing nothing but a diaper, running in circles around my sister's living room and demanding to go trickatreating.
We had to roll up the legs a little, but it worked, and got us out the door. Even as Pooh Bear, our Princess still had her faithful footman to escort her from door to door under an umbrella, while her lady-in-waiting lagged behind with the videocam and the Darth Dog. When we got back, there was pizza for everyone, and Aunt Andrea had found some warm, dry pajamas that used to fit Grayson eons ago, and everyone was happy again.
Fortunately, the women of this family are not only smart, we marry smart. Uncle Chip slipped off and quickly emerged with the Winnie-the-Pooh costume that Grayson had worn when he was two years old. It was deemed acceptable, and just in time, because I fear Darth Grayson was just about frustrated enough by trick-or-treating delay to light-saber our innards all over the living room.
Bella loves her Aunt Andrea, and I. Love. This. Picture.
And we all went home "Happy Ever After."