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Once upon a time…  OK.  The writing is on the wall figuratively, but the sign is on the door – literally.   And the sign indicates that the writing is on the wall.  Confused?  See the sign that my 9-year-old daughter posted on her bedroom door yesterday.

The princess has spoken.  Only upon the approval of her royal highness will you be granted permission to enter her chambers.

My husband (very jokingly) refers to me as the Queen, especially when I want something and he doesn’t.  Or he just wants something different.  He may say, with just a wee twinge of sarcasm and some eye-rolling, “What the queen wants, the queen gets.”  But more often, it’s, “Who do you think you are?  The Queen of England?”  Humph!  Of course not.  I am the Queen of France.  And then we discuss it and compromise, and it’s over.  Sometimes I win, sometimes I lose, but most often we meet somewhere in the middle.  And even if I lose, I am still the Queen, at least in my mind, and that’s where it matters most.

And so, it seems, that my daughter is following in her mother’s footsteps.  The sign is on the door which indicates that the writing is on the wall.  The princess will one day become the queen.  And they all lived happily ever after.  The End.

P.S.  Je suis la reine!  Repeat after me –  I am the queen!  Je suis la reine!

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