She asked me, ME!!!!!! if I would put her bumpersticker on her car.
Not her Dad.
At first I thought NOWAY. I hate bumperstickers. They're, well... sticky and a royal pain in the ass to remove which is what I would want to do when I trade in my rattly too-small-car-to-fit-our-family-of-five for a ::gasp!:: minivan.
(I'm totally gonna pimp it out BTW in keeping with my aspirations of being a total SMILF.)
But then I noticed IT. The sound of disappointment in her voice at my rejection of her accomplishment.
"Tell ya sweets, let's give Daddy first dibs and if he doesn't want to put the bumpersticker on his car, I will proudly show it off on mine."
I swear if she weren't anchored down by the seatbelt she would have shot straight to the moon and back propelled soley by sheer glee.
Always the epitomy of subtlety and patience Cinderella tackles Prince Charming as soon as he walked in the door for dinner tonight. He declined the offer, as predicted.
So there ya have it.
A bumpersticker. On my car. The first of many, I suspect.
(And I'm ok with that.)
(The only thing that could possibly top things is if Maleficent goes into orbit when she sees this. And perhaps gets slingshot into some galaxy far, far away.)