Raising a Diva

My daughter G is such a little diva. I dare say she is a little full of herself. It’s odd, because her mother is so down to earth (albeit in a fabulous sort of way). Each day when I open the door to her preschool classroom, she stands outside in the hallway where the other kids can see her, but refuses to enter until they are worked up into a frenzy chanting her name. It’s a little unbelievable. It struck me last night when she was serving us “tea” that possibly M & I are to blame for this. What she does is hold a plastic piece of bread or something and says, “Who wants this?” and M & I are clamoring all over the place raising both arms shouting, “ME! ME! I want it!” until she awards one of us with the plastic treat and we pretend to devour it. I have no idea how this started or how to stop it. Similarly, I don’t know how we got into the habit of her demanding that I wrap her in a towel each night after her bath and present her to her father as if she were just born. “Look Daddy! It’s a girl! I think we should name her G!” Those are my lines. If I forget any of them, she is quick to make me start over until I get it right. I believe this comes from watching “The Lion King” too many times, as she seems to think she’s being presented to the kingdom as its newborn princess.
Since I’ve never been a mom before, I don’t know if this is normal behavior or if I’m raising the next Mariah Carey. Right now it is nearly 9:30am and that child is still asleep. Having no personal experience with this, I can only assume that being a bossy-boots is quite tiring.