On raising a girl

The other day, mid rain, mid hopping around the house, River asked me to paint her nails. I/we have done this song and dance before, but this time was different. This time she asked me with such vigor and passion.
It was something she wanted to do, not something I thought would be fun for us to do.

By nature’s standards she has always been a girl, but now she’s a girls girl.
I see it in the way she walks; with such confidence and passion. I see it in the way she dresses; requesting “princess dress” (any dress to her knees or past her knees that moves when she twists.) I see it in the way she is consumed with rocking her babies to sleep, the way she touches all plants and flowers with a dainty and gentle hand, but more so in fulfilling tasks of her own-on her own.
Something as small as painting her nails, can change into such an astronomical event because it wasn’t  my event. It was hers. She knows what she wants. She knows how to love people without biased or pre-conceived fear. I can see in her eyes that she’ll be able to tackle the stereotypes and burdens of being girl with breathtaking balance and strength.
A girls girl. A strong girl. My girl.

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