My Wild Princess

A few days after learning the sex of my baby, way back in 2010, I declared war on hair bows and pink lace.

Knowing I was carrying a little girl in my womb made me fiercely determined that I would not subject her to gender stereotypes. I carried on about how I didn't want her covered in giant hair ribbons when she really didn't even have hair, or wearing tutu's for purposes other than ballet class.

Yeah, that lasted long.

I could not deny my sweet girl this Cinderella dress when we stumbled upon it at the consignment store. I sold my anti-girly-girl stance for $2.50. Such a steal.

At least in this photo I can imagine CeCe wearing this dress and "crown" with a sense of power. I love how she raises her hands in such authority as if she is greeting her cheering subjects.

"My People- it is I, Queen Cecelia."

CeCe ran around in this frilly dress with her lacy headband on, but instead of curtseying she was climbing on the coffee table and occasionally lifting the skirt up to her chest. What royal behavior from my rambunctious little princess.

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