My little girl, Ava, who is three-and-a-half, needs a more magical bedroom. I am painfully aware that we have left her walls bare for far too long and, while it's not like her room is a prison cell or anything, it's just quite boring and adult. It's because her room used to be the spare room, before we realised we simply had to separate her and her two-and-a-half year old sister if any of us wanted to sleep again. Ever.
So yes, I know we need to inject some (lots) more fun into her room – but nothing gave me a bigger incentive to do so than the other day, when I had taken both the babes to a massive Mothercare/ELC for new pumps. That mission (it really is a mission) accomplished, I was feeling very pleased with myself indeed and, after roaming the shop and shaking all the toys a bit (them, not me), I managed to convince my children we should go home for lunch.
We had made it to within 20 feet of the door – but then she saw it (tucked away, unsurprisingly, in a dark corner). It was a 'princess' 'bed', in the 'shape' of a 'carriage', and it was made by that company. You know the one? Yes, you know, THAT company – the one that does rather successful animated films. THE Creator Of Princesses (and mermaids).
This bed was soooo pink. It was the sort of pink that makes your teeth ache. It must have been more than 4ft high. I think, underneath the pink, it was made of plywood. It had golden wheels painted on it, along with the faces of some film star princesses, and a pink net curtain.
Ava gasped with sheer joy and leapt in. Oh lordy.
“LOOK! Is this a BED, mummy?”
“No, I don't think it is Ava, I think…”
“It's got a pillow!”
“It's probably a dog bed! Shall we go?”
“Awwww…”
Ten minutes later I managed to get her out of there, but she pouted all the way home, telling me how sad she was about that princess bed. I felt something akin to sadness, too. I had never seen anything quite like it.
Anyway, I wrestled with myself a bit during that journey. I found the bed hideous beyond belief – but who am I to tell her that she shouldn't like it? (Oh my GOD!! Why did she like it??!! Sorry.) Loads of people out there like it, I'm sure. In fact it has won an award (although that award was given by the company who made it. It's a self-awarded award in effect, so doesn't strictly count). But it's a bit like art really, isn't it? Your idea of what constitutes a beautiful piece of artwork might be vastly different from my own – and I'd hate to think I'd just tell you you were wrong.
Well, that row in my head didn't last too long. It was very easy to console myself (if not Ava) with the fact that buying it would have been like being mugged by princesses to the tune of 200 quid, because Ava already has a bed – a perfectly good and wonderful bed.
So, now I am considering, properly, my other options. Like just about everyone else, we don't have loads of money to chuck at Ava's room – but I have to chuck something at it. I mean 'lovingly create something wonderful within it', obviously. I think I am favouring one coloured wall and some fabulous wall stickers. Birds on a wire, dandelion blowing in the wind, that sort of thing.
But if anyone else out there had any brilliant (and quick!) ideas that saved them from discussing the purchase of a 200 quid princess monstrosity ad nauseam (literally), I'd love to hear them!
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