Nina In New York: Now's My Chance To Make My Child's Hypothetical Princess Dreams Come True

A lighthearted look at news, events, culture and everyday life in New York. The opinions expressed are solely those of the writer.
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By Nina Pajak

They're here! They're here! The Prince and the Duchess themselves, in the lanky, royal, toothy flesh. I'm referring to Will and Kate, of course, who touched down in our fair city just yesterday to begin their three-day American tour. They're staying at the Carlyle Hotel on the east side, which is, like, so funny because I have been there and I love their bar so it's clear we're already on the same page in a lot of ways.

When young Prince George was born, I and so many other mothers of daughters the same age immediately thought of what a delightful and handsome couple our children might make. It's silly, I know. They were just babies! Foolish dreams from a girl who's watched one too many Disney princess movie. But now that he's a growing young lad with a distinct personality about which Us magazine writes with authority, it's clear to me that the prince and my darling V are a match.

There are some hindrances here, I admit. For one thing, try as I might, I have been unable to find any blue blood in our lineage. It's not even purple. Although I have heard rumors that my great, great, great second cousin was considered the prince of his Romanian shtetl. And my other great, great, great, great uncle four times removed was the first in his village to receive a foot pedal sewing machine and he and his wife made a very nice business for themselves and were expected to become pillars of their community. No, wait, that's the plot of Fiddler on the Roof. My grandfather was the king of the plastic swivel-head hanger business? I mean, the KING. And my husband is a fraction Anglo-Saxon, so that's got to count for something.

But here's what I'm thinking: Will and Kate are a thoroughly modern couple. They're shaking off the dust of the monarchy and will one day have the power to truly rebrand the royal family. Far from adhering to the discriminatory, stodgy, elitist policies of the past, they'll want to veer off in a completely different direction in order to repair their international image. And what better way than with a Jewish-Catholic-Polish-Romanian middle class New Yorker? That's killing way more than two birds with one stone. It's at least . . . six birds? So many birds. She'll be better at math than I am, I promise.

Plus, she's adorable! And funny, and sharp as a tack. She's only 19 months old and she can sing a version of the alphabet song that coherently hits roughly 20% of the letters. So what I'm saying is, she's a genius. But she is also a lady who sometimes says please and thank you, occasionally enjoys attempting to eat with a fork, and always is sure to politely tell us when she has burped, farted, or found a boogie in her nose. George will be swept off his fat, little Oxford-clad feet.

Now all that's left is the meet-cute. He's not here, which makes this difficult, but I'm confident that if V crosses the parents' path all will fall into place. Time is of the essence, so I've got to act. I thought about having her pose as a room service waiter, a limo driver, or Chelsea Clinton's new baby girl, but none of those plans fleshed out. I also briefly considered making a last minute billion dollar donation to St. Andrew's in order to receive a fundraiser ticket for me and my "plus one," which would work perfectly and I'm setting up the Kickstarter page as we speak. Or I could just accidentally leaving her on their hotel suite doorstep, at which point they'd have no choice but to interact with her until I stumbled into the scene, frantic and grateful that they'd rescued my child.

I'm still working out the kinks, okay?

It's possible that the life of a princess isn't all it's cracked up to be. But maybe it is! Five out of five cartoon princesses can't be wrong. Like her profession, her university, her friends and her haircut, I just want it to be her choice to make. Parenting, you guys. It's called good parenting.

Nina Pajak is a writer living with her husband, daughter and dog in Queens. Connect with Nina on Twitter!