Hey. Mom is reading me a bunch of Princess Stories (published by Igloo Books) this week. The cover is pretty pink – I will give her that! But the stories, well, I have my reservations. (The rating is Mom’s opinion)
I think the only reason Mom ‘bought’ it on Playstore was because it was free. (Yups, didn’t spend a dime on it, get your copy here if you must). But that’s just Mom being Mom. I mean the woman stood in a queue in Singapore to get free tissues, in a TUBE STATION! Two is an impressionable age. you know.
So, anyhow, the book is about seven super entitled princesses who have cooks and butlers and dance school teachers and fashion designers at beck and call to get them out of tight spots.
I don’t like the way Mom is ending each story, like she means to send me a message. Hold it Mom, I am nothing like these girls! I mean if I was left alone in a kitchen full of cupcakes by a (must I say, fairly careless) cook – I wouldn’t eat them all! I would take a bite from each, smear the frosting on some fabric, feed some to the dogs in the building and maybe build a secret castle with some of them. I am flabbergasted that you might associate me with these princess types. Next time, get me a lion story please. And you might want to actually ‘buy’ a book?