I have nothing against the Toyota Yaris. I’m sure it’s lovely and has tremendous gas mileage and racecar-like handling. I just don’t see it as a spoiled “princess” kind of car. If I were the kind of girl who liked to brag about what her “daddy” had bought for her, I think I might set my sights on something a little more luxurious like, oh, I don’t know, an Audi.

Yet, this morning on the way to school I found myself behind a blue-green Toyota Yaris with a license plate frame that said “Daddy bought it…Princess got it!”

Eew.

Look, I’m all for pet names. And strong father-daughter relationships. Those things are fantastic. But something about the glamorization of being a spoiled brat is what makes me uncomfortable. I sat at a red light for a few moments, looking at the car, becoming increasingly bothered by the Toyota Yaris and its boastful license plate frame.

But then I pulled alongside the car and saw it was being driven by an older Asian gentleman in an argyle sweater, and suddenly I felt better.

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