Is it the Cinderella Complex or ADHD?

I don’t feel sorry for Cinderella anymore. Now, I know the truth about the little brat. In truth, she is a spoiled child of loving parents. She suffers from ADHD and a huge case of selfishness with a side order of self-pity.

That raggedy old dress you see her in all the time, in truth, it was brand new last week. Instead of changing into her work clothes for chore time, she’d wear it to pick berries, clean the ashes out of the fireplace, and an assortment of other mundane tasks, all of which she had been told a hundred times before not to do in her good clothes.

The reason she seems to always be doing chores while her stepsisters were playing was because she spent ten times the time doing her chores as it took the average person to do them. It also didn’t help that she kept getting sidetracked playing with the pesky mice rather than staying focused on what she was doing.

The reason her stepsisters got so mad about the mice taking the ribbon and beads had nothing to do with the fact the sisters no longer needed them. It had to do with the twelve previous times Cinderella had taken their stuff without asking, never returning it or returning it destroyed.

And, yes, her stepmother did make her sleep in the attic and eat gruel. I don’t blame her. Cinderella had no respect for anyone else’s stuff or her own. Stepmom was tired of spending her good money on a child who had no appreciate for her efforts or any concept of the value of money. After trying everything else in her arsenal, she had no recourse but to resort to tough love, forcing Cinderella to earn the same rights and privileges as the rest of the family.

Think about it. Was she told she couldn’t go to the ball or that she couldn’t go until she finished her chores? Would you let your child go if she was constantly giving you migraines, stealing from other members of the family, and whining and bellyaching about doing chores the same as everyone else? How is it anyone’s fault but Cinderella’s if she waited until the last minute to get things done? Or that her dresses were ruined?

And where was dear old dad during all of this? Dead, as the read was lead to believe? I think not. I think he was hiding at the office, avoiding taking responsibility for her daughter, leaving her upbringing to others. The man should be shot.

Get real, folks. Stop feeling sorry for the blonde bimbo and give your sympathies to the real victims, her family who had to make so many concessions for the little princess-wanna-be. Feel sorry for her future groom. Wait until he really gets to know her. His kingdom will be bankrupt before the new wears off those shiny glass slippers, which were stolen by the way.

I almost forgot. The nambie-pambie Fairy Godmother. What a piece of work. Some nosey biddy who only heard one side of the story and decided Cinderella was being abused. Spent most of her time reporting the village parents to social services. Not one of her charges in the past ten years had stood up to a home visit. The rest of the time, she was enabling, enabling, enabling, giving the “problem” children all the encouragement she could to continue behaving in such a manner that it gave their parents reason to put down bets on which one would go to prison first.

Worst of all, we parents read this ancient fairy tale, also known as a big-ass lie, to our children, thinking it is sweet to share a story from our childhood with the next generation. We think they will carry away from it the idea of happily ever after. Instead, what our children hear is parents are evil and every time we are forced to become hard asses–mind you I said forced because we are forced, no parent truly wants to make their child unhappy even if they deserve it-we are in the wrong and they have the right, nay, the responsibility of acting like they have been horsewhipped.

Why don’t we go ahead and just shoot ourselves in the head and get it over with instead. Life would be so much simpler and a hell of a lot more honest.

Anyone want to hear my opinion of Snow White?

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *


− three = 2