My mother will tell you I was a curious child and that I was more fascinated with a picture book than I was with toys. How do I say this and not sound like the Donald but..
Between the ages of 3 and 8 the books I read were your every day garden variety fairy tale stories where the princess was always invariably saved by the galant, noble, handsome and, I’m absolutely sure of this, boring prince. And they, of course, lived happily ever after.
I honestly think this the reason why me and a lot of other mes fall for the bad boys…because the good princes of our childhood books were certified snooze-fests.
Having grown up with a single mother, I found myself getting impatient with these princesses. I thought to myself, why couldn’t Rapunzel let down her hair and escape and why couldn’t Cinderella just stand up for herself, why the hell did they need 20 mattresses and one pea to tell that she was the princess, the little mermaid gave up her voice to get legs so she could win the prince, huh!? and what was the whole deal with true love’s kiss? I wanted more kick ass females and not the docile ones.
But unfortunately these were the only books I had access to at the time. I couldn’t dare ask for more books for fear of being whooped!
Sidenote: I really love what shrek did to the whole fairy tale thing.
After the age of 8 when I discovered the library at school I found that I could believe as many as six impossible things before breakfast (Lewis Carroll’s Through The Looking Glass) and that all Wilbur wanted was love (Charlotte’s Web by E.B White) and the might of Hercules and that Knights of the round table. It was the best of times indeed!
Okay that’s it for today…. see y’all tomorrow!