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Frozen

It started innocuously. About four months ago I noticed my four year old daughter wandering about the house singing something about, “never see me cry.

I was happily oblivious. Cute little song she’s learnt at nursery off one of her friends I thought.

A few weeks later my wife, Clare took little Meri to a birthday party. She came back in a foul temper.

“I spent the whole party stuck next to a mum who was boasting about how she had managed to get her daughter the latest Disney princess dress that all the kids are after. Apparently you can’t buy it in the shops; she had to pay top dollar for it on the internet. Her little girl was swanning around the party in this awful sparkly cyan number.”

I just shrugged and let it wash over me.

A couple of weeks later, I saw an article in the Guardian about how a new addiction was sweeping the country and taking over the lives of young girls. I learnt about the new crack cocaine for pre-school and primary schoolers: a Disney film called Frozen. I put it from my mind. My little angel was far too independent minded to fall prey to these corporate mediocrity pushers.

Slowly though I started to hear more about Else and Arne, two sisters. Slowly more and words along the lines of “let it go, let it go, the cold never bothered me anyway!” entered my house through the melting pot that is nursery school. Slowly, I caved.

One month ago we bought little Meri a DVD of Frozen. Since then it has snowballed out of all control.

Meri now has little Frozen play figures. She struts around the garden with a pretend cloak like Else (She’s decided she’s like Else because Else is the best because she’s got magic). She watches Frozen three times a week and it would be more if her embattled parents didn’t insist that we sometimes, just sometimes watch something else. The Wallace and Gromit DVD we bought at the same time sits forlornly unwatched by the TV.

Yesterday I downloaded a copy of the “Let it go” song from i-tunes so that she can listen to it in the car (it’s only fair I rationalised to myself – after all her six year old brother has about 20 songs on my i-phone to listen to (and his music taste is pretty cool – from the Foo Fighters to Royal Blood).

Final defeat came today though. My son wandered over carrying my acoustic guitar. He handed it to me and said, “You play the Frozen song Daddy.”

Et tu, Brute? Then fall Caesar!

 

The views expressed in this blog are solely those of the blogger and do not necessarily represent the views of Dad.info.

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