Dystopian Fairytale

Once there was a lovely princess so fair. Her name was Samara and her blues eyes sparkled, her blond hair had no cowlicks (hey this is MY fantasy), she was sweet and perfect, rarely cried and wanted to go to everyone.

All around this fair maiden were evil trolls (our neighbors) who sought to destroy her good nature with their drawbridge blocking, cannon blasting, moat trespassing behavior. But the princess's smiles never wavered, her sleep was never interrupted. "She was born under a good sign," the villagers would exclaim when the king and queen would venture forth from the castle (or, crappy condo), treading likely to avoid waking the sleeping trolls.

As the Princess grew, so too did her personality. Soon she was radiant, a pleasure to know, a child for the ages. When her parents, King Dad and Queen Mom would bring her out, sweet Princess Samara would cuddle and coo, but she was also an independent girl who could play for hours with the bricks and mortar (alphabet blocks) the castle's builders left behind so many eons past.

The days passed quickly in this Kingdom so peaceful, until one day the King and Queen decided to travel to the far off distant Kingdom of California. There, our princess could bask in the love of her cousins, the Duke and Duchess of Los Angeles. On the way there, their carriages met with a snafu. One of the horses was burning oil far too quickly, or so their stage coach driver explained. As the little princess slept, the King and Queen made a dangerous detour into the strange and foreign Kingdom of Dallas, where another coach awaited to ferry them to California.

Our little princess quickly recovered from her harrowing journey to westward lands and once again was the sweet child the King and Queen had grown to love so much. She attended many balls while in California and ate many strange new flavors in this exotic land. In the village, there were stalls like pinkberry and mochi where the princess could sample these flavors among the locals. And soon the princess, whose palate had previously been limited to only what the good farmers of the Kingdom of Boston could grow, craved the sweetness of this new land. She would scream, thrashing about until someone gave her a small spoonfull of the sugar she now so badly craved.

And as the Princess's cravings grew, so did her hunger for exploration and speed. Unfortunately for the Princess, her skills in this area were limited and so she would scream until the King and Queen would rush to her side, ferrying her wherever she needed to go. Soon, the princess was dependent on this transportation and was unwilling to try to explore on her own. Soon she wanted the King and Queen (but especially the Queen) to be touching her at all times, lest she get the urge for a bauble across the room.

Oh how the Queen feared that she and the King had created a monster. The King would bellow, "it's all that sugar. My edict said no sugar for the princess and now you have disobeyed--and look what it has created." But the Queen had her doubts. Sugar was a lovely thing, a gift from heaven, she believed How could something so good have changed the princess so dramatically?


And so our fairy tale ends here for now... And now some words from the Queen:

The halcyon days are over.

Our little kingdom is now being terrorized by a beast of mythic, nee epic, proportions, the likes of which I have not seen seen since my sister's childhood (sorry Mar, I love you dearly, but you had an unusually large number of "off" days). Where or where has my fair princess gone and how can I get her back?

Samara wants to be touching me at all times, but she also wants to be exploring at the same time. These competing desires make her scream and thrash about. She seems so frustrated and I don't know how to help her. This morning she refused breakfast and would not play with her toys. I am at a loss. Should I call the pediatrician? Could she be teething (please g-d, let there be a reasonable explanation that will end soon)? I miss my baby all sunshine and daisies! What has become of her?