"Yo soy un princesa," he told me the other day, explaining why he shouldn't have to wash dishes. That statement confused me more than a little.
"Um...well, technically, I think you're a princeso, since you're male," I explained. "But that doesn't sound like the right word, either..."
"Yo soy un princeso," he corrected himself, smiling.
"Do you want to be a boy princess?" I asked. "Or are you trying to say you're a prince?"
"I'm a prince," he said. "How do you say that?"
"I don't know," I answered. "Maybe you should be king instead, because I know that one--el rey."
"I don't want to be a king," Mark said. "I wanna be a prince. Princes do whatever they want and if they get in trouble, the king takes care of it. It's more fun to be prince."
I wish I was surprised at that, but I wasn't really.
"So you just want the title, but not the responsibility?" I asked.
"Exactly!" Mark grinned. "Kings work too hard."
"Huh," I said. "That's really interesting. Now wash the dishes!"
He snorted at me, and grumbled under his breath. I couldn't hear what he said exactly, but it sounded like "Princes don't do dishes. You're the mom, you should do them."
I just smiled and handed him the dish soap.
"Yo soy una princesa," I told him, and walked away.
We may not really live in a kingdom, but my house is not a democracy, either.
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