It was amazing just how much color, and noise, and stuff a child’s mind could handle. Croe found it all overwhelming, but Ángela was like a kitten with catnip, her eyes dilating so similarly that Croe wasn’t sure whether to feel more alarmed or amused. Maybe some Sperantia had gotten into the gene pool. She wondered what in here would make her daughter pounce, if it was even possible to make up one’s mind in such a place.
”Ooh, Rapunzel. Right. Which one is she again?” Croe wondered, giving her daughter’s hand a little squeeze as she led her through the labyrinth of paraphernalia. Her eyes brightened somewhat every time she recognized something – which was, frankly, not very often, and restricted mainly to movies that had come out prior to the 90s – but she could barely conceal her dismay when they paused in front of a rack of sparkly dresses. It’s normal, she had to remind herself, little girls like to play princess. But how had her little girl ended up that way? Croe had spent her own girlhood avoiding dresses like the plague.
So she was relieved when they moved on, without a ball gown thrown over one arm. And surprised when they came to a stop in a forest-themed section of the store, peppered with toy weapons. This was decidedly not the Disney scenario she expected. Croe blinked, accepted the horse plushie, listened to her daughter’s explanation with genuine interest. Her lips quirked up into a smile. Maybe the apple hadn’t fallen so far from the tree, after all…
More like, directly under it, hitting every branch on the way down. ”Not all boys are stupid,” she clarified, biting her lip to keep from laughing. ”Your father is very smart, and so is Ned. But she’s right to be suspicious of them. And she must be quite an archer, to be able to shoot while riding. If we were friends, I’d ask her to teach me that.” No…that’s not quite right… This was a missed parenting opportunity, wasn’t it? There was something else she should have said. Something about…not shooting things, probably. Or maybe, something about marriage not being so bad. So, you know…a lie.
Croe followed Ángie down the aisle, her fingers gently combing the mane of the stuffed horse, wondering if it was good or bad that she hadn’t raised her daughter to consider marriage the pinnacle of achievement. She certainly hadn’t led by example, on that one…or had she? Was she always leading by example? She’d never explicitly said that marriage was a bad idea, or even that it was out of the question for their family, but somehow Ángie had picked up on her feelings about it. Croe smirked, feeling a little puzzled and a little proud, and suspecting she should feel guilty instead. As usual, she couldn’t muster that feeling. Croe watched Ángie study the action figures, then ran her gaze over them, herself. An oversized warrior, a trio of putti, an elegant queen (probably the mother; she felt a twinge of relief that there even was a mother in the story), two very different bears. The level of detail had certainly increased in the last thirty years. Merida looked bright and determined, the expression in her eyes rendered down to the highlights.
”Hm,” she acknowledged, considering. ”Shooting is more efficient, but sometimes you don’t need to be efficient.” Shit. That wasn’t right either. ”I don’t think you need to worry about what to do to your enemies, chula.” Better. ”Did you want to get a Merida outfit? Or a bow to practice with? I could teach you.” That was good, right? Mother-daughter bonding? If Disney sanctioned archery for girls, surely it was kosher to teach Ángie to shoot.
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