Girls will be Girls
Your little girl … ever since she was two years old, she has had so much to say! She’s probably been following you around, chatting your ears off. Your talkative, little girl … when you’re having a bad day and you’re feeling low, she naturally senses you’re sad, and genuinely wants to console you. Your sweet, little girl … when she comes out of the powder room with lipstick all over her face and announces “I’m just like you momma,” and then tells you she loves you. And just like that, your sweet-hearted, little girl brings you back to the days when you walked around the house in your mother’s heels, loving the click clack sound they made on the hard floor, while you pretended to be her too.
I was the little girl who grew up loving deer hunting, running around the cows at grandpa’s farm, and being equally as happy while putting on concerts for my family, which consisted of singing into a hair brush or vacuum handle, and wearing dress up clothes while I pretended I was one of the Pointer Sisters.
I look at my daughter now, and I adore all of her silly antics. I love that she loves to be covered in dirt. I love how she dresses herself in mismatched clothes and walks around in my peep toe pumps, while living in a fantasy world. It cracks me up when she’s in a pretty dress and splashing in a mud puddle, as if nothing else on this planet could make her happier. It baffles me that she jumps on her bed at three o’clock in the morning, most days of the week, while singing into a spatula, explaining she’s “paformin,” and asks me if she looks “beaufaful.” And of course, I tell her that she is beyond beautiful. The truth is every daughter is beautiful.
This lovely little song called “Fireflies,” by Faith Hill, depicts the beauty and magic of being a little girl:
“Before you met me I was a fairy princess
I caught frogs and called them prince
And made myself a queen
And before you knew me, I'd traveled 'round the world
And I slept in castles
And fell in love
Because I was taught to dream
I found mayonnaise bottles and poked holes on top
To capture Tinker Bell
And they were just fireflies to the untrained eye
But I could always tell
Cause I believe in fairy tales
And dreamer's dreams
Like bed sheet sails
And I believe in Peter Pan
And miracles, anything I can to get by
Does this song not make you swell with emotion for your daughter? How you love her imaginary world, where mud puddles are motes, rocks are fuzzy pets, trees are castles, brushes are microphones, and glitter is magic.
Observing my daughter, my niece and cousins, and the daughters of friends, I see a whole world filled with wonder, imagination, and light … a world full of sparkles, color, dresses, mud holes, and the freedom to dance and dream.
Let them be little girls, and teach them to never stop dreaming.