Tonight was the launch party for Prisoner of the Molepeople at the Provo Library. The love was so thick, I felt as if trapped in a giant cube of Jello. I have great friends and family.
When I was putting my five-year-old Ariah and my two-year-old Aspen to bed, there was a heated controversy over the purple pillow. Aspen claimed it for herself, but Ariah contested and mommy confirmed that it was Ariah’s turn for the purple pillow. Poor Aspen was consigned to the contemptible green pillow. She was so distraught that she left the room and wept and wailed in the hallway while I told Ariah a goodnight story. Here was the story:
There was a rich king who had two beautiful daughters: princess Andromeda and her little sister princess Adalaysia. One day the king gifted his daughters a beautiful white pearl, but to his sadness, the princesses wouldn’t share the pearl but fought over it. The king told his daughters that they would have to take turns holding the pearl.
First it was Andromeda’s turn to hold the pearl. The next day it was Adalaysia’s turn. The next day it was Andromeda’s turn again, but little Adalaysia wouldn’t have it. She insisted that it was still her turn. When the king confirmed that it was, indeed, Andromeda’s turn, Adalaysia was so upset that she stormed out of the castle.
That night, it was cold outside, and it started raining. Still Princess Adalaysia refused to come into the castle. Andromeda felt sorry for her, so even though she wanted to hold the pearl, she stuck her head out the window and called after her sister. “Adalaysia,” she said, “come inside. You can hold the pearl.” Upon hearing this, Adalaysia didn’t hesitate to run back into the castle, and the two sisters slept happily together. Princess Andromeda was older and wiser than Princess Adalaysia, and even though she didn’t get to hold the pearl that night, she felt happy, because she knew she’d done the right thing.
After the story, I asked Ariah if she’d learned anything, and she said she had. She happily told Aspen that she could have the purple pillow, which Aspen happily accepted. Before I kissed them both goodnight, I told Ariah that she had acted like a true princess. She was happy. Aspen, however, looked me straight in the eyes and said, “I wasn’t the younger princess.” (I didn’t know she had listened to the story.) She continued: “I was the older princess.” Then she turned to Ariah. “Ariah, we were both the older princess.”
Not only had little two-year-old Aspen been listening, but she’d clearly understood the meaning of the story and refused to be associated with the bad example. It’s sometimes funny how powerful stories can be.