“I’m Dorofee!” Adelaide insisted.She clutched her stuffed Toto dog to her chest and squinted up at me. “There’s no place like home and I am DORO-FEE!”
After we finished reading the book, Sadie, Josie and I had a "Wizard of Oz Party.” Adelaide, filled in on the highlights of the story by her sisters, insisted that she was going to watch, too.
So with glitter all over the floor and our newly minted Emerald City nametags in place, the girls and I filled our popcorn bowls and settled in for the long-awaited film debut. Sure that she would be terrified of the Wicked Witch of the West, I fully intended to keep 3-year-old Adelaide away from the TV.
But I underestimated her sneakiness. Though she was supposed to be in bed, she tiptoed in and watched silently from behind the couch. Sadie, Josie and I, engrossed in what’s arguably the best movie of all time, didn’t really notice the obsession developing in the small person behind the furniture.
Not only was she not terrified of the Wicked Witch, she thought the witch was funny! What? That green skin and wild cackle still creep me out, and I am an adult!
Now, when her sisters occasionally quote The Mayor of Munchkin City in silly voices, Adelaide responds with a resounding “Sing it low, sing it LOW!”
She goes a bit overboard. She has been won over by munchkins, broomsticks, "scarecwows,” and “wions.” She is officially obsessed.
When I gave her some little sparkly red shoes, she was ecstatic. Now, she wears her “Dorofee shoes” to church, to play in outside (in the snow or on the beach), to play dress-up, to go to the playground – everywhere.
At any moment, you may see her with her right leg poised in the air, toes pointed, ready to take that famous first dance step down the “yellow bwick woad.” You may hear her singing “Weeee’re OFF to see the wizard! The wonderful wizard of Oz!” or “Somewhere over the wainbow, bluebirds fwyyy….”
You may find yourself being propositioned: “Will you be my Tin Man?”
You may fall victim to her as she crouches behind the bathroom door, ready to jump out with a roar at unsuspecting passersby, yelling, “Somebody pulled my tail!”
For her third birthday, her grandma made her a beautiful blue-and-white gingham “Dorofee dress.” Never has there been more excitement – more fanfare – made about a dress. Adelaide could not wait to put it on, zip it up, twirl around and fall down into a field of imaginary poppies.
She insisted on wearing it to church the next day with her hair in pigtails, sparkly red shoes on her feet and basket (with stuffed Toto) in hand. To those who asked about her dress, she replied, “I just like it so much because I like Dorofee! And Grandma made it for me! And I want to go over the wainbow because it’s so pretty!"
When I check on her at night, I find her cuddled up to her dress, no doubt dreaming of rainbows and talking trees. When I ask her why she likes the story, she sings, “Because! Because, because, because because because! Because of the wonderful things he does!"
Her sisters have long since gotten over their initial excitement, but Adelaide can’t take a hint. When she told Josie, “You can help me fly over the wainbow. With an airplane! Let’s go!” Josie said, “Why don’t you just go?”
Tired of hearing about “lions and tigers and bears” from their little sister, they refuse to be either a good witch OR a bad witch during playtime.
Therefore, I am constantly forced into the role of the Wicked Witch. I’m beginning to get a complex.
Unfortunately for the rest of us, when you want to pretend to be Dorofee, there really is no place like home.
from my 8/14/11 article for www.mentorpach.com
