The Little Princess wants to be a heroine. And because she’s a brilliant eight-year-old girl-child, she is also trying to get a toy out of the heroic deal. So there I was, asking her what she was hoping to get if she reached her $200 goal, when she told me, “You haven’t donated yet.”
“How do you know I haven’t.” I crossed my arms, and assumed my best I’m-so-serious pose.
She squinted. That’s her suspicious look. “Well, did you? Are you being mysterious?”
“Maybe I did and you just don’t know. How about that?” I looked away so she wouldn’t see the deception leaking out of my eyeballs.
I promised myself that I would donate as soon as I put her to bed. I didn’t want that squint aimed at me again. Making conversation—and trying to hide from the penetrating squint—I said, “I will ask some of my friends to donate, too. Why don’t you write a story or a make a card? I will take a picture of it and put it on my blog.”
“I will write an acrostic poem. I know what to write for the T.” She grinned one of her scary grinned, and adds, “I know what to write for the E, too.”
Here is “Heart,” an illustrated acrostic poem, by the Little Princess:
Help the Kids!
Everybody in the house donated except Magaly!
A hero is what you are!
The little princess is helping!
Things got extra interesting when I asked the Little Princess if she could explain the illustrations. She told me that all the drawings are of her.
“The first one is me holding a balloon. My heart is okay, see?” She pointed at the chest area of the first drawing. “But look at my mouth is really big. I know my eyes look weird. The drawing is too small. I can’t fix it. The balloon is a heart with a hole in it. Air is coming out of it. Because it’s from a kid with a sick heart. Someone popped it with a needle. Now the kid needs help.”
At this point I’m a bit choked up. I’m happy she understands that other children are not as lucky as she is; that they don’t have a healthy heart. But the fact that a child has to know these things is still a little sad.
“And the second drawing?” I said.
“I’m a superhero raising money to fix the hole in the heart.” Then she smiles, very superhero-like. “The last one is me holding a huge check for $200. Is it good? You think your friends will like it?”
I hugged her. “Only a mean, weird, crazy person would see your poem and your picture and not love it. And my friends are a little crazy and really weird, but never mean.”
“I’m weird, too,” she said. “I like weird stuff.”
After that, she turned the conversation towards karate, and how she is very good at kicking because she’s “weird” and “likes kicking” a lot, and how she’ll teach me the moves she learns in class because they are very “easy to learn,” especially “if you’re weird and like kicking a lot … Do you want to play UNO?”
She’s an eight-year-old girl-child; if you’ve known one (or have one of your own), then the continuous stream of consciousness bit should make complete sense to you.
The fundraising ends on Friday, March 14th. The Little Princess joined a bit late. If you would like to support her efforts, please follow this LINK to her donation page.
Thanks in advance, my Wicked Luvs; from the weirdest Witch of them all and from the self-proclaimed weird Little Princess with the suspicious squint and the poetic grin.