We have a nap-time routine, my girl and I.
At night, when I lay her in her crib, she invariably requests a song, so I sing to her as I pull the blankets up around her shoulders, brush her hair out of her eyes, and click the lamp dark, but at mid-day when I tuck her in, I tell her the fantastic things I think about her.
I'll say "You're smart and you're funny and you're cool and you're kind" or "You're good at sharing and I love your hugs and you make big messes, but you're good at picking them up" or "You're a climber and you're adventurous and you're curious and you're very awesome." She usually repeats each descriptor as I list them, "Smart... funny! ...cool... kind". It's a fun exercise between a mom and her girl, I hope it gives her joyful sleep, but it's actually a more deliberate strategy than that.
You see, I started to hear from every direction about how pretty she is becoming or is already or just how cute she looks in her dress or her curly hair. Strangers at the store, friends at church, and dear family were all saying it. Pretty, pretty, pretty. And it's true. I love the sight of her. Her smile is dimpled, her eyes are wide and gleaming, her nose is round and cheeks joyful. I think she will be hearing about her looks for many years to come and from many different sources and that is just fine, but I realized something one day after being out in public and receiving many compliments in her body's behalf.
I realized that those kind of descriptors are not all that I want her to hear. I don't even want them to be the majority of what she hears. I can't help what other people tell her, but I can change what I say. And I hope that will make a difference. (I am, after all. with her the most.) Perhaps I can shape her inner voice and what it will someday whisper to her about herself.
I want my daughter to know that her body is a gift. It really is wonderful and useful and good and fun. I hope she enjoys it and uses it to accomplish good things and chase happy dreams, but I really want her to know that she is much more than her body. She can have goals that are not constrained by anything other than her own desires and dreams. The world (meaning everything outside of her own self) will want to tell her all sorts of things about who she is and what she should be and do, based solely on her body. They might see her as an object (because a body is, after all, an object), but I hope by then she won't be fazed by it because she will see herself as more than a body. I want her to know how to listen to herself. I want her to know that God speaks in the quiet moments and she needs to trust that she can hear those whispers. I want her to know that she is inherently good. I want her to know that she can do great things and become someone even better than the things she does.
Oh, but that's all a long time in the future. For now, we'll celebrate with cake and balloons and dancing and laughing. For now, I'll tell her all the ways she amazes me and brightens my days.
She really, truly does.
