I'm Lindsay Ferrier, a Nashville writer with a passion for family travel, exploring Tennessee, and raising kids without losing my mind in the process. This is where I share my discoveries, along with occasional deep thoughts, pop culture tangents and a sprinkling of snark. Want to get in touch? Use the CONTACT form at the top of the page.
September 27, 2006
>Another parental rite of passage exposed in this week’s Nashville Scene column. Read the full text of the column below…
My Latest Ice Capades
As soon as the music hit the airwaves, my two-year-old and I scrambled to beat each other to the television.
“MOMMY! It’s, it’s, it’s… Tinka Bell!” Baby screeched, pointing wildly at the screen. “And Jasmine! And Lurmaid! And Slippin Beauty!”
I hesitated, my finger on the off button, then rolled my eyes in defeat.
“Disney’s Princesses on Ice!” The announcer proclaimed over my two-year-old’s squeals. “This weekend at Gaylord Entertainment Center!”
“I want to SEE it! Mommy, I want to SEE DA PRINCESSES!”
And that’s how I was roped into what’s become an annual pilgrimage for too many Nashville parents: a trip downtown to an overpriced live show based on insert-an-annoying-children’s-character-here. Last year, we joined a crowd of thousands paying homage to The Wiggles. This year, it was all about Disney’s Princesses on Ice. And before you start feeling all hopeful, no, I’m not talking about a surreal morgue drama featuring Disney’s buxomest as the cadavers. It’s an ice skating show.
After I put a second mortgage on the house in order to pay for the Ticketmaster seats, Baby, my friend Jenny, her toddler and I dutifully showed up at the GEC on a sunny Saturday morning. We found ourselves knee deep in a crowd full of three-foot-tall Cinderellas, Mermaids and Belles, all squirming and squabbling and begging for toys and candy. I heaved a sigh of relief that I’d thought to dress Baby in a fairy costume before we left. And then I heaved an even bigger sigh that she was too young to realize she was merely a T.J. Maxx princess, whose costume bore no relation to any known member of cartoon royalty.
“Whatever we do, let’s keep them away from the souvenir stands!” I whispered to Jenny as we made our way inside. She nodded knowingly. But Disney had outwitted us, practically lining the route to our seats with dolls, magic wands, tiaras, posters, and coloring books, all bearing hefty price tags. I fervently wished I had thought to fashion a pair of pink Princess Blinders for my daughter before we’d left the house.
“Mommy!” Baby squawked, pointing urgently at them as I attempted to whisk her past the loot. “I see dollies! Mommy!”
“Oh, you don’t want those dollies, Baby,” I responded, thinking fast. “They’re, um, well, they’re made of poo poo.”
“Poo poo dollies?” Baby frowned.
“Yeah. Stinky!”
We rushed past the poo poo dollies, Baby holding her nose. Crisis averted.
Once in our seats, Jenny and I kept our kids from spying the toy and candy vendors wandering the aisles by plying them with fruit snacks, juice, and a wild and rambling tale about a fight between Dora the Explorer and Mickey Mouse. The woman in front of us wasn’t so resourceful. She had caved and bought her daughter a bag of cotton candy that might as well have been spun gold.
“How much was that?” her husband asked, pointing at the cotton candy when he returned from the restroom.
“Ten dollars,” she answered sheepishly.
“Ten dollars?! Aww, honey, that’s a twelve-pack!”
Watching them, I sadly shook my head. I had so been there before.
At last, the ice show began. The premise was simple and repeated over and over until I was ready to go all fairy godmother and turn the entire cast into pumpkins. First, a Disney princess skated around for a while, singing a song about longing for something more than her dull, cartoony life. Then a Prince entered the picture, flung the Princess around, and tossed her in the air a few times while the crowd oohed and ahhed. It was clear from the Princess’s happily dazed expression that either all that flinging had given her a serious case of vertigo, or her life was now complete and she could finally move to the suburbs like a Real Woman.
Obviously, Baby was enjoying seeing her beloved Princesses in person, but I was surprised to notice that the moms around me seemed just as excited as their daughters. And that’s when it hit me.
While the Princesses kept the little girls happy, the Princes were totally there for the moms. Impeccably dressed, boyishly handsome and potentially gay, it was impossible to imagine a Disney Prince ever belching or farting or spending an entire Sunday watching football on television. No, a Prince would instead offer music and dancing, cuddling and handholding. Oh, and shopping. Lots and lots of shopping.
I looked down at the Cotton Candy Couple in front of me. The wife sat slack jawed and rapturous while a shirtless Aladdin flexed his muscles for the crowd. At the same time, her husband slunk low in his seat clutching his beer belly, panic visible on his face.
I smiled to myself. I was finally getting my money’s worth. Because there’s nothing more entertaining than watching a macho man realize he’s skating on thin ice.
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>Poor Cotton Candy Husband…Thank goodness baby doesn’t like poo-poo dollies! LOL!
>That’s funny!!!! I love reading your stories. You make my days a little brighter.How are you feeling?
>I loved it! Great column this week.
>Poo poo dollies and beer-swilling men. Nashville sounds like a great place to live. 🙂 We went to see Toy Story on Ice. That was enough for me. I’m so thankful Elle is old enough to want to go to a soccer match!
>I’m commenting for three reasons:1)Good Karma2)I know how hard it is to get people to leave your main blog and click over to another place where you write…like when I ask people to read me at “Imperfect Parent”. It’s a tough gig.3)You write well and this was a very funny post. Poo-poo dollies, indeed!
>I’m thinking you missed the point on Mr. Cotton Candy: He wasn’t skating on thin ice when you saw him slouch despondently in his seat — he’d long since fallen through. He was being punished — in a cruel, gruesome manner — by being forced to go to the Ice Capades in the first place. Who knows what horrible trangression he’d committed against his spouse? But we know for certain that this was his penance.
>Did you seriously tell her they were made of poo poo?!?! That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard!
>Poo dollies. Damn, why didn’t I think of that.Laughed my ass off at the image of the cotton candy husband. Reminds me a little of my own precious man…
>Oh. My. Goash!Poo poo babies! My co-workers really think I am nuts now! Thanks for the laugh- I needed it today.
>You are so funny! That was wonderful.After being suckered into taking my daughters to see Sesame Street LIVE several years running (when they were much younger) I vowed to end the madness. They can send me the therapist bill when they are adults. It will be about how I ruined their lives because I never took them to the circus, stars on ice, etc. Me, I’m saving money on therapy by not going.
>I’ve been to that show.Poor hubby had to escort a SOBBING 4 yr old out because he wasn’t fast enough to get her to the rink in time to shake the princess’ hand. He felt like the biggest daddy failure in the world, and she ended up with some sympathy gift.We have decided to never do that again. Our toddler sons will miss Thomas the Tank visits, the Wiggles and anything else that features overpriced souvenirs and toddler meltdowns.
>I love the idea of going all fairygodmother! Damn if I don’t need a wand.
>I remember when I was a little girl begging my parents to take me to Disney on Ice. I remember how excited I was to be there! I remember being one of the few picked from the audience to ride the “train” which circled the rink once or twice What I remember the most is how I froze my wee little tush!! This was despite my parents dressing me as if I were in the middle of a Michigan snow storm. To top it off the show was in Virginia Beach, Virginia in late Summer. I still cannot make myself take my children to an Ice Show due to my tush freezing up just at the thought of it.We do other theater and such events and I try to dress my youngest for the event. If my teens go they devise their own attire in a manner respectful to their younger sibling. We do stop at the souvenir table and purchase an inexpensive item. Next time any of my children ask for something expensive I am going to use your “tool”….but it’s made of Poo!
>I love it. I’m laughing out loud.
>>surreal morgue drama featuring Disney’s buxomest as the cadaversToo funny!My friend took her 2 year old to the ice show last year, along with a bunch of friends. She reported the little girls shouting for the princesses, and the mommies shouting for the shirtless princes too. Something for everyone.
>My friend bought a DVD called “Hard Hat Harry” for my son. Same perks for the mom: a cute boy in a genie costume (read: vest and no shirt and a rack of abs to drool over). LOL!! Congratulations on achieving this rite of passage.
>I loved your article! Poo-poo dollies – I am so glad I’m not the only one who does that! I am so praying we don’t see that commercial. I have been able to avoid Dora on Ice, Sesame Street on Ice and (insert whoever here). The Wiggles are coming around, but after my husband heard a co-worker complaining that he just found a $150 charge on the credit card statement for two tickets his wife bought…I guess we won’t be doing that! LOL
>BRAVO on the Nashville Scene column darlin’! That was a great one!
>There really is something for everyone! Rock hard abs for us moms, princesses for the kiddies!
>I took Darly to see Blues Clues Live…Luckily she was old enough to enjoy it but also see that she doesn’t want to go to another show.Slim Goodbody confirmed that…even though she got to shake Slim’s hand after the performance…she was so grossed out.
>Laughing. Oh, it’s so true.Please don’t tell Muffin Man that the Cheetah! Girls! are coming to our town.
>Nice. You have the honor of my first hospitalized comment. Ooohhhh. Ahhhhhhh.