Today, my Baby A turns two. This is the official start of the Terrible Twos, which, so far, has been more entertaining than terrible – a combination of glorious imagination, words galore and a fierce attachment to her father and me.
The fierce attachment comes in the form of her telling us to “come, come, come play!” mercifully followed by the afterthought of “pleeeeeeeease”.
“Come play princesses,” she tells us and off we go to hunt for Cinderella’s missing shoes, or brush Rapunzel’s hair, or dunk Ariel in water and dry her off with an oversized towel.
Baby A can rattle off the names of every single Disney princess, likes to pretend my yoga mat is her magic carpet and that she is Aladdin’s Jasmine, and she has a Barbie-sized Princess Belle and a Beast who like to embrace one another and dance around her room.
Buying her tickets to the Disney on Ice show that just completed its run in Dubai was, therefore, a no-brainer.
She sat transfixed. Mr T and I marvelled that our hyper child didn’t once try to jump off our laps. And who could blame her? For two hours, the entire audience was transported to the magical, musical world of Disney.
The elaborate costumes, the colourful sets, the flawless skating, the contagious music – all meant the experience was unique and worth every dirham. And I secretly patted myself on the back for cultivating my daughter’s passion for all things Disney-related.
Because here’s what Mr T and I are realising: parenting Baby A is an excuse to relive the happiness of our own childhoods. And for me, it’s escapism into Disney.
Baby A spent the rest of the evening talking about everything she had seen, dancing like the figure skaters, waving her arms in the air and commanding Mr T to “do Daddy prince” and lift her up “uppy up up uppy NOW”.
Mr T and I had given our daughter the best birthday present: a memorable experience for our Disney Princess-loving girl. We just didn’t realise how memorable it would be to a child with an overactive imagination.
She fell asleep, finally, but it didn't last. She talked in her sleep and woke up repeatedly throughout the night. First, it was cries of "bad bad bad baaaaad sea witch" – and Mr T and I cursed Ursula from The Little Mermaid. Then, she randomly shouted out "Rapunzel".
The third time, she actually woke up and asked us: “Beast coming? Belle coming?”, and then wouldn’t go back to sleep for another 10 minutes. After that, she got up to look for her Ariel the mermaid doll. Mr T and I brought her to sleep in our room, hoping it would soothe her. I spent the rest of the night listening to her calling out for Mickey, asking me in her sleep where Merida is and then waking up at 5.30am demanding that she “go Dizzy show again”.
Ever since, I’ve had to alternate between calling her Rapunzel whenever she wore the fake, blonde braid we had stupidly bought her at the show, or pretending to be the Beast so she can be Belle.
We loved it. But I think next year, when Disney on Ice returns to Dubai, we'll pretend not to notice.
Hala Khalaf is a freelance writer in Abu Dhabi
