Grace.

First: I'm not going to be the kind of mom who prohibits television in particular and swaths of pop culture in general. Clearly. I probably love Grover and Little Bill more than my four-year-old ever will. And when DJ Lance Rock does that high kick and steps in his groove, I am right there with him.

Second: If my girls have interests, I'm going to support them. Last night Bean skated for the first time on her cousin's backyard rink, so obviously she'll be a hockey player who smears glitter on her helmet before each game. (Heather predicted this over two yours ago when Riley had to give up her pacifier and Marley yelled at her, each time with more passion and intensity: "YOU CAN DO IT!" Her little face was bright pink and trembling by the time she was done, and Heather envisioned her in Michael's locker room between periods, complementing his coach-'em-up pep talk.)

Third: Disney knows how to work its demographics: every preschool girl I know has a princess something in her possession. The other night, Bean dug into her dress-up bin and pranced around the house murmuring something about a ball in this weird accent she does when she's extra lady-like. I quizzed her on why princesses are so great. Bean: "Because they're beautiful." Me: "Anything else?" Bean: "And they go to balls." Me: "Are princesses smart?"

What I'm saying is, if Marley loves princesses, then: great. Santa brought her a whole slew of Barbie-style Disney princesses that his elves made especially for Target, and even though I have no idea what sort of adventures they'll all have together (balls? sorority rushes? debate club practice?), I'm happy because Bean's happy.

And if she wants to sashay around like Briar Rose picking berries in the forest, then I am right there with her.