Little girls are the nicest things that can
happen to people. They are born with a bit of
angelshine about them, and though it wears thin
sometimes, there is always enough left to lasso
your heart. . . even when they are sitting in the
mud, or crying temperamental tears, or parading
up the street in mother's best clothes.
A little girl can be sweeter (and badder) oftener than anyone else in the world. She can jitter
around, and stomp, and make funny noises that
frazzle your nerves, yet just when you open your
mouth, she stands there demure with that special
look in her eyes.
A girl is Innocence playing in the mud, beauty
standing on its head, and motherhood dragging a
doll by the foot.
God borrows from many creatures to make a little
girl. He uses the song of a bird, the squeal of a pig, the stubbornness of a mule, the antics of a
monkey, the spryness of a grasshopper, the
curiousity of a cat, the speed of a gazelle, the
slyness of a fox, the softness of a kitten, and
to top it all off He adds the mysterious mind of
a woman.
A little girl likes new shoes, party dresses,
small animals, first grade, noisemakers, the girl
next door, dolls, make-believe, dancing lessons,
ice cream, kitchens, coloring books, make-up,
going visiting, tea parties, and
one boy.
She doesn't care so much for visitors, boys in
general, large dogs, hand-me-downs, straight
chairs, vegetables, snowsuits, or staying in the
front yard.
She is loudest when you are thinking, the
prettiest when she has provoked you, the busiest
at bedtime, the quietest when you want to show
her off, and the most flirtatious when she
absolutely must not get the best of you again.
Who else can cause you more grief, joy,
irritation, satisfaction, embarrassment and
genuine delight than this combination of Eve,
Salome and Florence Nightingale?
She can muss up your home, your hair and your
dignity; spend your money, your time and
your
patience; and just when your temper is ready
to
crack, her sunshine peeks through and you've lost
again.
Yes, she is a nerve-wracking nuisance, just a
noisy bundle of mischief. But when your dreams
tumble down and the world is a mess. . . when it
seems you are pretty much of a fool after all. .
. she can make you a king when she climbs on your
knee and whispers, "I love you best of all!"
You've made me a king many times. . .
author unknown...
How can it be that when I bent to kiss you goodnight; my daughter, a beautiful young woman, lay where only yesterday a little girl had been?
When did the barrettes and ponytail ribbons of birthday party days give way to the styling comb and make up mirror of Saturday night dates?
Was it not only yesterday, crayons of all colors laid upon the table where now bottles of nail polish rest?
How can it be the buggy you filled with so many dolls has been pushed aside and new suitcases are filled instead?
Did you know that the little finger you wrapped around me was tied right to my heart?
I suspect you did. . .
It seems as though the ink has just dried on the pages of your baby book and here we are laughing over pages in your year book.
How did the ballet slippers of a little girl become the high heels of a young woman on her way?
Such a little while ago you cried, "Daddy, I'm scared", and now you whisper, "Dad, don't worry, I'll be fine."
When did the teddy bear you hugged all night become the photo of someone you've chosen for life?
How can it be the smell of baby powder turned instead to the scent of perfume, the giggles of a little girl became the tears of a teen, and the roses tiny fingers picked were treasured like the petals of a prom bouquet?
Wasn't it only yesterday ruffles and tea parties colored my world pink, and today a new address and a good-bye kiss stain my world blue?
How did it happen so quickly; and when I stop to realize, all my golden tomorrows will bask in the memories of pink yesterdays.
Thank you Lord for pink yesterdays.
