Written by Emily
I’ve tolerated endless renditions of “Let it Go”: spit in anger like feminist poetry, growled in monster tongue, squealed into the air like KidzBop and hurled through the room in pseudo-opera. Again and again and again to match the mood and tone of the moment’s Frozen rehearsal.
I’ve been an innocent bystander and victim in battles waged between my girls over who will be Elsa and who will be Anna. And “that is not what she says!”
I swallowed all of it, humming along sometimes.
But when my girls leaned over my sleep-deprived carcass and whispered, “The sky’s awake, so I’m awake…”, I knew right then and there that the writers of Frozen hated parents or at the very least, me.
When Michelle mentioned that her girls haven’t worn coats for weeks because “the cold never bothered me anyway,” I knew there was something devious about Frozen. Everyone knows that kids have to wear coats, so parents don’t look negligent.
Someone wants us to suffer.
So here’s the deal, Disney, we’re on to you now. You owe us one next time.
If you want us to spend $45 for a Barbie-sized figure with a sparkly dress, something better change, and I don’t mean kicking Prince Charming to the curb. You want us to take our kids to see the 3D version, the regular version and the sing-along version of your next Blockbuster hit? You hope we fork over our credit cards for the Read-with-Me leveled readers, cds for the car, and Blue Ray DVDs? Get it right, and we just might be the putty in your hands we’ve been for the last five months since Frozen touched down in theaters everywhere.
But that means the parents live, and not just live but thrive. We’re the heroes, or else: “Good-bye, dress-up clothes and figurines.” Think Marlin in Finding Nemo x 10. And where, may I ask, is the Marlin plush toy?
Enough with the villainous stepmothers. We’ve had all we can take of foolish fathers and hateful mothers. You’ve turned the true love theme on its head in Frozen, now think about making life easier for parents.
I’ll admit it: I’m troubled by your power to reduce my kids to ventriloquist dummies. I’m also in awe. I think it’s time you use that power to thank parents. After all, we’ve supported your empire with themed birthday parties and dress-up ensembles that cost more than we’ve recently spent on our own wardrobes.
I will not be satisfied until songs like these top the Billboard charts and KidzBop Pandora stations:
“Princesses Always Sleep In”
“Real Princes and Princesses Know Where They Put Their Uniforms”
“Random Noisemaking is for Squares”
“If You’re Happy and You Know It, Blink Your Eyes. That is all.”
“You’re Only Royalty if You Remember to Wipe, Flush and Wash Your Hands”
“Princes Help With Dinner!”
“‘How Can I Help, Mom?’ ‘I Already Took Care of That, Dad!’ is What Cool Kids Say”
“Boo for Snow Days. School is Cool.”
“Mom’s Dinner is Better than McNuggets”
“Quiet time is My Favorite Time.”
“Live to Show Eternal Gratitude for Labor and Terrible Twos”
“Love is in the Air: It’s Mom’s Perfume.”
“Your Parents Can See Everything, Which is the Best News Ever”
“An Epidural Needle is the Length of Your Spoon. The Circumference of a Newborn Head is 15 Inches. Just Saying.”
My wallet is closed until I see and hear some major changes, Disney. The ball is in your court.