Leo has been counteracting this over-Disneyfication by reading her Peter Pan in the evenings, and we're both realizing that it's a horrible book with all sorts of social messages with which we don't agree.
So that's good.
Margaret, as is her wont, is playing all these things out in her world of make-believe (which is very vivid, though we have managed to convince her that not everything she reads about is real).
So this weekend, it was important for her to have a bucket -- a special bucket -- so she could collect pixie dust (some might call it dirt, but she knows better) to pour over Ellie and herself so that they could fly.
This bucket lacked the special fighting form that she prefers in her buckets, so she had to go and find another bucket.
She came and told me her precise requirements, and it appeared that what she was searching for was not so much a bucket as a clear tupperware container. I gave it to her, and then the truth of the plans to pour dirt over her head came clear.
It's hard to keep ahead of her, it really is.
But I prevented an onslaught of dirt by suggesting that pixie dust is invisible here on the mainland, and that we would have to go to Neverland to see it.
She's now outfitting an expedition. I have locked all her windows, and am considering employing a dog as a nursemaid, though I might balk at calling her Nana, as that would be needlessly confusing.