New Cinderella Story

With a metaphorical sweep of wands, the little mice helped clean the house -- banishing the school papers from the fridge, stuffing the file folders and laptop in drawers, erasing the mundane reminders from the chalkboard, relocating the toys and DVDs to their rightful spots out of sight.

More sweeps of the wands, and the appetizers were prepared, the chilled wine uncorked, the evening's signature drinks mixed, the music played throughout the house.

Prince Charming swept the mice off to other mice's homes for the night.

Completing the transformation, Cinderella donned the skinny jeans, the designer top, the makeup and jewelry. The straight hair was curled in tiny ringlets for a "new" look.

Cinderella and her Prince were ready for their guests, a grown-up evening. No pigs-in-a-blanket and juice boxes on the menu.

Enjoying the evening long after the clock struck midnight, and with no familial morning obligations, this Cinderella indulged in the rare luxury of sleeping in. (Other Cinderellas might not consider sleeping until 7:45 am -- 6:45 with the time change -- sleeping in, but this one was satiated!)

After enjoying a lazy morning with her Prince, after the coffee had been drunk and the paper had been read and breakfast had been consumed and the wine/shot/martini glasses had been washed, she looked in the mirror: the fuzzy robe was not luxurious; the slept-on curls no longer looked glamorous, and now felt like an unnatural wig atop her head; she missed her little mice.

A shower straightened her hair. The everyday jeans were slipped on, with a comfy knit top. The school papers were reclaimed. The mice were retrieved. Prince Charming went outside to mow.

Cinderella, her Prince, and their three little mice resumed living happily ever after.