Emma and Oltaf

Toronto, 2015.12.13

My daughter loves this Disney disaster called "Frozen", but at least she's got a sense of humor about it. The movie is such a mess that for the first 2/3 or so it doesn't even have a plot; things happen in a causality-free stream of cute but unrelated scenes, like something a six year old would dream up. The last time I was in the room when it was on, I was studying for something and found myself looking up from time to time to demand of a character "Why!" whenever they did something inexplicable. Emma took to explaining things to me, which was incredibly adorable, because a) she's three and b) nothing in that train-wreck can be explained. But I let it be.

But now she has this doll (courtesy of the Japanese-speaking German Santa Claus) and though she'd had it less than a day Dad's already ruined the hair by mistaking the hair bands for part of the teeming mess of shipping/packaging wires. When I asked her the name of the character, she called the doll "Elsa", but I had to start teasing her, blending names of actual characters in the show and arriving at "Oltaf". She was initially outraged, then started getting mischievous about it. This morning she walked up and said, "Daddy, here's Oltaf," and left the frazzled doll in my lap.

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(In which I leave the final word to someone else.)

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