Except, the kiddos had no idea who Cinderella was.
Conflictingly proud that we had so far avoided one arm of the Mouse's media empire but also abashed that my children did not possess the cultural literacy of fairytales, I waited for the show to be over and then whipped out my treasued copy of The Tasha Tudor Book of Fairy Tales, my favorite illustrated fairy tale collection from childhood (which I keep right above Tasha Tudor's A Time to Keep, probably my favorite childhood picture book).
Oddly for a book by an illustrator, there aren't that many pictures (and those that exist are very 18th-century French Sun King), but we sat and read through Perrault's version of Cinderella, which doesn't have friendly mice and has two balls instead of one (but gently leaves out the evil stepsisters' self-mutilation in the pursuit of fitting into the glass slipper. I think that might be the Grimm version). Sis listened enrapt, clearly mentally comparing it to the Movers' version. Bud was hung up on some of the details, such as how her clothes became rags. But they enjoyed it. And want to read about Rapunzel, who is pictured on the front cover, next.
Will we be reading the Grimm version anytime soon? Probably not. (Much less listening to the confusing Into the Woods.) Nor will we be watching the Mouse's version either. We'll walk the middle road for now, learning the stories in the safe environs of Tasha Tudor (and carefully navigating the often misogynistic, sometimes violent tales. More on that some other time, though, briefly I think fairytales have a lot to teach, beyond being cultural touchstones. I'll need to re-read the Brain, Child article on Grimm again first).
Especially because the Movers left the door open for even more fairytale visitors!
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