scribblechic

It began with a tiny tool belt strung at a sassy angle across her hips.  My daughter, face determined, shook her head with frustrated disappointment.  No tools.  The problem seemed obvious, but my curiosity was endless.  I watch my children perpetually lost to their stories.  Each new interest is an unexpected introduction to another piece of their personality and I am smitten with their spirit of adventure.  As my daughter stood dressed in preparation for a new chapter, I remembered an earlier day.

I secretly wished for a daughter when her life was still a newly formed possibility.  My son was an all-encompassing source of joy and I couldn’t imagine another boy.  I began imagining a daughter.  I daydreamed about a little girl who would scale climbing trees in a princess dress, play in the dirt as easily as host tea parties for teddy bears, and in time I was blessed with a dream come true.

Her character is a complexity of contradictions.  Strong in spirit and fragile in moments of uncertainty; kind in moments of compassion and fierce when overwhelmed by frustration.  Her room and clothes are the trappings of a little girl, but she plays alongside her big brother.  It seems fitting that she would fill her brother’s cast aside tool belt with pink handled tools.  Her first project a table and chairs of her own design, doll height and coated in purple paint.

Tagged: Children, Daughter