Many days ago you turned forty nine months old.

I didn't write right away, but I've had this letter in my head the entire time. I've written it. And rewritten it. And again. So here goes.

You are a princess! Yes. You've hit the pretty pink princess stage of life. And I think it's GREAT! I know. What? I know. It's so wrong. It's so anti-feminist.

But it's not. It's great. You're wearing dresses you wouldn't have touched with a ten foot pole. You're putting on amulets and headbands. We've got you enrolled in ballet once school stops and it's PRINCESS ballet and you'll love it and I'll love it and you'll wear tights because you have to but you will because you'll want to go to class.

I hope.

I mean, think about it. Princesses are toddlers. They are demanding, temperamental little people with big, bossy parents who rule the world. It all makes sense! Of course you go through a princess stage at this point in life. Who better to mimic? It is a phase. And it will end. And life will go on.

I just want to say, Congrats, kid. You made it to this stage and you're rocking it.

Happy Forty Ninth Monday.