I beg your forgiveness, dear Princess

I know. I know. You are right. This would have never of happened to your brother. And while I won’t necessarily concede we missed one of your milestones, I will agree that it did lack a certain amount of fanfare.

You got your first tooth. Its beautiful. Its sharp. Its a glorious tooth and I apologize for not making a bigger deal of its arrival.

Now I’m not going to try and justify myself to you, I am, after all, the Queen. But the kingdom was extremely preoccupied with the Royal Snotfest still consuming this monarchy. You, yourself, are still infested with this evil invader the idiots at the pediatrician’s office are calling a “cold.” They obviously don’t understand its MY children that are infected, or else they wouldn’t treat me like every other neurotic mother in town calling to see what is to be done with this sleep-depriving, tissue consuming, demon of a virus.

I’m sure you are wondering what all of this has to do with the lack of celebration, as it were, for the new pearly white in your mouth. Afterall, had it been the Count’s first chomper, there’d be a parade, you’d argue. True enough my dear. True enough. Admittedly the Kaiser and I bestowed many a kudo for your sibling’s first milestones. And yes, they are documented at nauseum.

But I know you. And you are obviously above such typical parental accolades. You have held your head high (and without support) since birth. You have been talking to us for months. Crawling for weeks. And you are pulling up, standing, and nearly cruising–all before your brother had begun to sit. You’re special, my dear. And you’ve known it well before we figured it out, and certainly never needed us to point it out.

So please do not mistake the “second child” parental nonchalance as favoritism. We just know its a tiny tooth. And we’re saving our Princess Parade for the really big milestones. I’ll start planning the party for your first period now.

The Queen