We’re going through a phase in my house right now. It’s all Minnie. All. The. Time.
We have Minnie Mouse hair bows, dresses, shirts, warm-up suits, swimwear, sunglasses and scads of books. Minnie’s face graces our 2-year-old’s umbrella, play apron, gardening set, sleeping bag and night light.
A hooded Minnie Mouse towel and its hoodless sister are the only allowed after-bath drying accessories. Queen Bee is sure her food tastes better when consumed from a Minnie plate, bowl or cup and she brushes her teeth with a Mickey and Minnie toothbrush.
Minnie Mouse dolls, play sets, bouncy balls and hopscotch mats are the featured decorations in our living space and the Minnie’s Bowtique theme song is never far from my present thoughts.
The merchandising people of the Disney empire surely love my family. We have all bought in, Minnie Mouse toy hook line and sinker.
Our day care provider keeps a running tally of how many days in a row Minnie Mouse appears in our girl’s ensemble. Every morning, it’s the same routine:
Me: “It’s time to get up and start our day! What do you want to wear?”
Queen Bee: Placing her finger pensively to her lips.. “Hmm. How about something… Minnie?”
If no acceptable Minnie-wear is available, Queen Bee dissolves into a puddle on the floor and becomes a two-che bag, hurling stinging barbs at the offending clothes and at me.
“That dress/shirt is yuck! It doesn’t have Minnie on it.”
“THAT’S NOT GOOD ENOUGH! I WANT SOMETHING BETTER THAN THAT!”
“Mommy, you’re making me frustrated!”
Maybe I’m to blame. I have, after all, saved my own Minnie Mouse ring since my first trip to Disneyland when I was 5.
Or maybe it’s my husband’s fault. He DID insist on getting her a Minnie-themed infant seat.
It could be Grammie’s doing, since she bought Queen Bee’s first Minnie Mouse doll.
We may never determine the root cause of Queen Bee’s Minnie-mania.
I guess we all have our style icons. Mine are just three-dimensional.