The author's daughter in her mermaid phaseWhen our daughter was preschool-aged, Princess Ariel dolls littered every room. Our once tranquil interior – a blend of coastal and cottage design – looked like an ill-kept aquarium full of plastic ornaments but no actual fish.
Our child dressed the part, too: Whether headed for the playground or grocery store, her tiny toes poked out beneath a sparkling green fishtail.
As a former clinical social worker, I knew imaginative play served an important role in child development, but I worried about the degree of fantasy we were helping her cultivate. I was also exhausted. While she twirled in a red wig, I was miscast in the role of Prince Eric. My throat ached from forcing a deep voice each day.
One evening, I found rose petals scattered around plastic doll furniture and knew a wedding ceremony was imminent, b...
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