A letter to my daughter

A letter to my daughter

Dear daughter o’mine,

You laugh a lot, with gay abandon, accompanied by snorts. Don’t let anyone tell you it is unladylike.

You climb on your dad, roll on the floor and play with cars. Don’t let them tell you should have been a boy.

You run, scream, jump and talk non stop, trying to burn the seemingly inexhaustible energy I am still wondering the source of. Don’t let their disapproving stares bother you.

You play with your dolls, cooking for and feeding them. You even put them to bed. Don’t let them tell you that is how girls play.

You like ribbons and pony tails but couldn’t care less about princesses and unicorns. You sleep with a teddy bear. You like trucks, aeroplanes and skateboards. Digging in the dirt and climbing trees are some of your favourite past times. Don’t let them teach you to choose between any of those.

Don’t let anyone define who you are or what you should be. Wear blacks, reds and blues if you like and be who you want to be.

You are just a child, free and wild. And that is how it should be.

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