I Only Bought Two Tickets

For the past ten minutes, Emily (almost 5) had been chattering endlessly about Princesses.  “Mommy, I liked Aerial best.” She chirped as she clapped her hands together.  “Who was your favorite?”

Before I could answer, Emily interrupted with more chatter.  “I liked when Minnie Mouse wore the princess dress.  And when Mickey was skating.  But I didn’t like the witch.  She was evil.” 

Emily’s jabber continued without interruption for another ten minutes.  Then, suddenly it stopped and Emily was quiet.  I glanced in the rear view mirror to check on her.  Her head was tilted to the side.  She was clutching her Minnie Mouse doll.  Her eyes were closed and she was snoring. 

We weren’t even out of the parking lot when Emily passed out in her car seat.  It was going to be a quiet drive home.  I smiled and hummed Bippity Bopity Boo as I drove through town.

When I heard that the Princess on Ice show would be coming to the Civic Center, I considered getting tickets for the whole family.  A nice family outing, just what we needed.  Then, at the last minute, I changed my mind. 

I only bought two tickets.  One for me.  And one for Emily.

It isn’t that Eric wouldn’t have enjoyed it.  It’s true that he is almost eight years old.  It’s true that he prefers light sabers to magic wands and that he finds battle droids more appealing than ball gowns.  But after seeing him dance to the Mickey Mouse Club House song when we were at the Magic Kingdom, I’m certain he would have gotten in the spirit of things.

It isn’t that Beth (almost 2) wouldn’t have behaved.  Sure she can be high spirited and rowdy.  Sure, she can get so caught up in the excitement that she can’t stop giggling.  Yet I am certain she would have sat still.  She would have been captivated by Tinker Bell’s twists and twirls; and she would have clapped and cheered as Jasmine jumped and jogged on the ice.

But I only bought two tickets.  One for me.  And One for Emily.

Eric, I reasoned, already gets a lot of attention.  He’s the oldest.  Everything he does, whether it’s going to school or learning to skate, is being done for the first time. 

Ken and I spend a lot of time trying to figure out how to do things the right way with him.  We take turns sitting with him while he does his homework.  We attend all of his school events.  We enroll him in activities, like soccer, hockey and boy scouts.  Eric gets plenty of attention.

Beth, I noted, gets a lot of attention too.  She’s the youngest.  Everything she does is precious and cute.  Like when she blows bubbles into her milk.  Or when she jumps on the couch.  Or when she crawls into my bed to cuddle in the morning. 

Ken and I spend a lot of time trying to enjoy the last of our babies.  We play tickle games.  We read Goodnight Moon.  We try to enjoy every ounce of our baby before she grows big.  Beth gets plenty of attention.

Emily, on the other hand, often sits quietly to the side, choosing to observe rather than join in the action.  She doesn’t get to do things first.  And she doesn’t get to do things last.  No matter what she is doing, it seems she is always tripping over her brother or falling over her sister.  And sometimes, in the commotion and chaos, Emily becomes lost in the crowd. 

Two tickets, it turns out, may have been too many.  During most of the show, Emily sat on my lap.  We clapped when Prince Phillip woke Aurora with a kiss.  We cheered when Prince Charming slid the glass slipper onto Cinderella’s foot.  We ate cotton candy and sipped juice from a Princess cup.  And when it was all over, we walked back to the car holding hands and chatting.  Just the two of us.

That’s why I only bought two tickets.  One for me.  And one for Emily.