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Little Girls Are Magic
When my daughters were young, I took them to Disney World in Orlando. Like you’re supposed to. I wasn’t sure this was a great use of our money, but what do I know? They were about six, eight, and ten years old, and they loved it. The six-year-old was absolutely all in – it was all real to her. Disney really is good at that. As a family, we were heavily involved in princesses at that point, and Disney is a very princess-intensive experience. It was great. We even went to a “breakfast with the princesses” or something like that. For an enormous amount of money, you eat breakfast, and the Disney princesses make the rounds and talk to the kids at the tables. My kids were dazzled. Absolutely dazzled. I thought the eggs were ok.
A couple of tables over, there was a little girl, maybe five years old or so. She had a chemo bald head, a steroid round face, a port in her little chest, and a Snow White princess dress on in her little wheelchair. The actress who played the Snow White princess was talking to her, and the girl was so, so happy. She was just beaming – radiating pure, unadulterated joy. At the end of the table, her Dad, who looked like a 30-year-old construction worker with an unkempt beard and a big belly, was sitting there weeping, in absolute agony. The Dad, the princess, and the little girl. At a breakfast table. It was one of the most beautiful horrible things I’ve ever seen.
The actress was great. As I choked back tears, I thought to myself that if I had that job, I’d be having vodka for breakfast by the end of my first week. But she was great.
I reached over to give my oldest daughter a quick one-arm hug. She sees that I’m crying and she says, with great sympathy in her eyes, “Daddy, are you ok?”
I try to smile a reassuring grin, and she says, “I saw her too.”
I respond, “God bless that little girl.”
My ten-year-old responds, “And God bless her Daddy, too.” She gives me a big hug. And just for a moment, everything is ok. It feels sort of odd, actually, as things quickly revert back from ok to horrifying. But just for a moment, everything is ok.
She’s ten years old.
Little girls are magic.
Judging from the way the family was dressed, I guessed that there was no way they could afford something like this. So I presume it was “Make a Wish” or her church or something. But still, her family went to a lot of trouble to get their kid this experience, which probably was very unpleasant for the Dad, but it was pure joy for the little girl. So there you go.
I was reminded of the Dad, the princess, and the little girl at the breakfast table, as I ate breakfast this morning at a hotel in Orlando.
I didn’t really want to be there, as is often the case when I’m in Orlando. My oldest daughter was playing in Greensboro at the ACC Women’s Basketball Tournament. But I really wanted to see my youngest daughter play volleyball (The 6’4″ beauty pictured at left, who can hit a volleyball through your chest…), so I went to her tournament in Orlando. Then it turns out that my middle daughter, who has been studying this semester in Singapore, is being evacuated because of the Coronavirus and is landing in Savannah today, so I’d have to leave the volleyball tournament after only one day, anyway, to go pick her up at the airport.
What a freakin’ mess. Things always seem to happen all at once. Welcome to my world.
Anyway, I’m eating breakfast in the hotel in Orlando, wondering why I’m not in Greensboro or Savannah (or Hilton Head, where I actually live), when I notice that all the tables around me are families with tired, overweight, sunburned, midwestern-looking parents and very excited kids running around wearing Mickey Mouse ears. Good for those families – taking time to get their kids a great experience.
Most of the families appeared to be of rather modest means, but they were going to Disney anyway. I’m not sure that’s a great use of their money, but what do I know?
So anyway, I finish my breakfast, and I head over to the Orlando convention center to watch some volleyball.
There were 200 volleyball courts, with around 2,000 teams, with about 10 kids per team, so figure around 20,000 teenage girls playing volleyball. Plus their parents, siblings, coaches, and God knows who else. With lots and lots of college scouts there, many of the girls were hoping to get recruited for a volleyball scholarship. So there was a lot at stake for some of these kids. (My kid signed last year, thank God, so no pressure for her at this point.)
But lots of these kids were clearly not future collegiate athletes. They were just there to play some volleyball. Good for their families, for providing an opportunity for their kids to play. Of course, a national tournament like this is not cheap, and many of these families appeared to be of modest means.
I’m not sure this is a great use of their money, but what do I know?
My wife served for two years in the Peace Corps, in Mali, West Africa. It was a Muslim country but was quite safe for Christians in the early 1990s (this was before Al Qaeda took over). One of the things that struck her was how they handled mealtime. The father got the best food, and as much as he wanted. Then his wives split up the remainder, based on seniority (his first wife had more clout than the others). Then whatever was left was set out for the kids, with the smaller, younger kids often having trouble fighting for scraps that the older kids would grab first. My wife had never seen anything like it and didn’t understand why the kids didn’t get the best food.
I mentioned this anecdote to an Egyptian physician I was on-call with once, and he answered, “You Christians are weird about kids. You lose all reason and common sense.”
And I suppose he’s right.
A friend of mine who served in the first Iraq War told me that the Iraqis would hide men and weapons in children’s hospitals and schools, knowing that the Americans would never hit those targets, no matter what. They knew that Christians are weird about kids.
And I suppose they’re right.
Little girls are magic. I’m not sure why. Is it because they’re so cute? Or perhaps that they’re like small versions of adults (which little boys most certainly are not)? Is it because we all recognize that little girls are the mothers of tomorrow and therefore are vitally important? Or perhaps that the fantasies of little girls are more palatable than the fantasies of little boys?
I really don’t know. But there’s something about little girls. Little girls are magic.
So I leave my home in Hilton Head, but I missed my oldest daughter’s ACC tournament basketball game in Greensboro, so I could attend my youngest daughter’s volleyball tournament in Orlando, which I had to leave early to go pick up my middle daughter in Savannah.
She runs up to me in the Savannah airport and gives me a big hug. She steps away, she sees a tear in my eye and says, “Daddy, are you ok?”
And I respond, “Yes, beautiful, everything is ok.” And at that moment – just for a moment – it is. Everything really is ok. It feels sort of odd, actually.
Little girls are magic.
Everything is ok. Just for a moment. I’m not sure how they do it. But they do.
Little girls are magic. God bless little girls.
And God bless the rest of us, too. Perhaps that’s why He gave us little girls? I don’t really know. But right now, it doesn’t really matter. Because right now, everything is ok.
Just for a moment.
Little girls are magic.
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I never had one (my “little” guy is 37 now), but this makes me wish I had. Great post.
God bless you all.
May you and yours only have joy and blessings.
I’m not always sure that Ricochet is a great use of my money.
Then there is a post like this.
Matthew 18:
Very sweet perspective.
I’m one of 8 girl siblings.
Yes, Yes, we are magic. 😁
I love your description of girls as “miniature adults”
I have one daughter and three sons. I tell everyone to have three sons … but only if you have a daughter. I hate tattoos, but she has one I love (don’t tell her). It’s the tree of life, written above is “I am my brothers’ keeper”. I forgive a lot for that apostrophe
She in turn has blessed me with two grand daughters. 4 and 3. I just spent a week with them – they get a long amazingly (for the most part). One little drama: three year old approached me crying.
speaking to the four year old, I said, “Emma, why is Scout crying?”
Enma replied, “it was a competition, and Scout lost.” And then I swear to God she shrugged. As if to say, what are you going to do? It is what it is.
Little girls. The world is better for them.
When I was going through a rough time in high school, I met M. M was in 2nd grade, adorable, and had beautiful long brown hair. Every Sunday after church I would see M. in the basement, looking bored, and I would talk with her. She was mischievous, but mostly good-natured, and would often play with my jacket or drag me along by the hand. Little kids are a lot easier to read emotionally – they don’t have much tact – so it was not as stressful as other social encounters. I could lose myself in the moment. Same when I volunteered in afterschool children’s programs. They looked up to me, so I tried to be a better person.
When I thought about bloody revenge at school, there were only two ways to break out of the rage. One of them was to think of M. and the other little friends I had.
I think that there’s nothing wrong with little boys. They can be really sweet and incredibly fun. It’s just that most little girls tend to be more emotionally mature and talkative. As grownups, we connect with them easier. For most boys, you need to play with them or otherwise engage them physically.
As far the premise goes, the Japanese tend to view that more literally. There are lots of anime shows targeted to little girls that have them transform into magical girls and do heroic stuff in over the top dresses.
No doubt about it, daughters are special. My daughter holding her first nephew several years ago is still one of my favorite photos.
And from a daughter who still signs notes to her dad “your little girl”, we think dads aren’t just magic, they’re heroes, knights in shining armor.
Wonderful post.
Bless you, Dr. Bastiat, for the touching story.
I also have three girls. All three played introductory soccer, but it didn’t take. One was very good at softball, but it didn’t take. So much for my sports influence. All three ended up in competitive dance, and all three were very good. Fortunately for me and other dads, competitive dance often involves elaborate props or heavy wooden constructions that the girls (and a few boys) dance upon. We dads built those, transported them, and quickly shuffled them on and off the stage. I spent a lot of time back stage with the other fathers and our girls. I think we had it much better than the moms, who had to deal with quick costume changes and stressful dressing room emotions. We got to hang out with the other guys, and we were the last to encourage our girls before their performance and the first to congratulate them after. It was a privilege.
We think of these Disney experiences as hackneyed, shallow and commercialized, but they often bring real joy into peoples lives. I still tear up when I remember how excited our youngest was to meet Winnie the Pooh at one of those breakfasts. She was only two or three years old, but when she learned we were going to meet Pooh on our trip, she purposely packed her Pooh shirt and pants. Every day when we were in Florida, she would ask if that was the day of the Pooh breakfast, because she was saving her outfit for that day. That day came, she put on her outfit, we went to breakfast, we shuffled through the buffet lines, we sat at our table, we ate our waffles and bacon, and we waited for Pooh to show up. Eventually Pooh and Tigger entered the room, split up, and went from table to table. When Pooh arrived at our table, our daughter was so, so, so happy. There were hugs and pictures and autographs. It was only for a minute, but it was the highlight of the trip. It was worth it.
You describe the father at the princess breakfast as weeping in agony. I don’t know, but I can imagine he was also feeling immense joy for his daughter. But when that joy is so polarized by his fear of her situation, he couldn’t hold both emotions without bursting. I bet he will never regret being there .
Doc, that’s your best post yet. Just terrific.
You’re wise enough to see deeper into the matter than the numerous facile critics of princesses and Disney World. But then you’re a conservative and they’re not.
That scene with the sick girl is just a killer. I think I would have had to leave the room for fear of making a spectacle of myself. I’m getting overly sentimental in these latter days.
After reading your post, I could read no more Ricochet posts the rest of the month and I would still think that my five bucks monthly fee was a great deal.
I have three boys but my oldest is my little girl. Our bond is that no matter how many siblings followed she is the one who made me a father.
Little girls are special because they afford us dads a chance to get sucked into their princess world. We are their first Prince, ready to slay any dragon or defeat any wicked witch that might come their way.
Men need to be cognizant that, for better or worse, we become the measuring stick for all the other men that will pass through their lives. It’s so important that we get it right.
Ha
I do believe our Girls and us dads have a magic between us.
Of course, we are doomed to be replaced, but I am enjoying it while it lasts.
Your post got me all misty-eyed.
Our three daughters also gave us many magical moments growing up, including a trip to The Mouse . . .
True. But thank God – and our daughters – that we don’t have to get it “perfect.”
Definitely. I only had one but she had three all of them magical.
We had a magical trip to Disney with our daughter at 3.5 years old. Everything was a source of joy and wonder to her…..and to us, seeing through her eyes.
Our return visit to Disney with her brother when he was 4 and she was 9 was a humorous disaster. He hated everything. He was suspicious about all those rides that once you are on you can’t get off. Not an illogical concern! We finally lived that trip down when we took him and his wife at 26 to Universal (Harry Potter) and we had a blast.
Thank you, Dr. Bastiat. Beautiful and moving.
Thank you everyone for your kind words.
And you may be right, @saxonburg, that the Dad of the sick girl was weeping in joy, but that’s not how I took it. I suspected that he realized that his beautiful little girl would be leaving him very soon, and he missed her already. He wanted that joyful moment with the princess to last forever, but he knew that it wouldn’t.
I drove separately to Orlando, so I could return early to pick up our middle daughter at the airport. It was a weird feeling eating breakfast by myself in a hotel dining room surrounded by young families. I was reminded that my youngest daughter (the volleyball player) is a senior in high school, and would be leaving us soon. And that I missed her already. That reminded me of the Dad of the sick girl, and I wrote a post about it in my head, on my drive back to Savannah.
My original title was “Just for a moment.” I kept repeating that phrase in an effort to point out that every Dad’s time with his daughters is short. I got more time with mine than the Dad of the sick girl did, and I am forever grateful. But having my last little girl leave home soon has me contemplating how empty my life is about to become.
@bryangstephens picked up on this above, in his comment with the picture of his beautiful daughter.
I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’m not the first Dad to go through this. And I hope the Dad of the sick girl is doing ok today, wherever he is.
Even though our little girls have to leave us at some point, they certainly make our lives better. Just for a moment.
Man, I miss her already.
Great post and great comments. This father of two girls thank you all for expressing it so well.
Well, that didn’t make me cry. At all.
That’s right. Something that the discerning jihadi should meditate on. We tried doing two wars using a relatively light touch. Target our kids, you’ll see a whole different sort of warfare.
Wouldn’t have it any other way.
Nah. We’re going into year three as empty-nesters. Immediate, “just for the moment” joy is kind of gone, but there is instead a kind of derivative joy. Watching from afar as they navigate life’s pitfalls, seeing them flourish whether the times are good or bad, it’s worth shoving them out the house. Plus I have my own study now, so there’s that. And they know that when in need I’ll be there for them; whatever it takes.
Very touching essay and I am with you on the daughters thing. I have two myself and it’s great to be their Dad. I also happen to be in the kind of blue-collar entertainment business akin to the Snow White actress.
I had developed a keen interest in physical comedy and circus arts after having misspent my youth. But it wasn’t until I had my first child when I came to enjoy performing for children, only because I understood them much better. I know probably a dozen people who worked at some point as a Disney character in Orlando (no princesses though ) , and a good friend who currently performs there through a digital medium in one of the animated shows. She voices and manipulates a character on-screen with poses – all improv ( she’s a very funny actress) interacting with audience members. Plus there are many more working in other venues from top to bottom ( closer to bottom). I’ve moved on to playing music myself, and I know many more and yes, there are real moments everyone has. It makes it special.
Ultimately, being a Dad is a role, just like playing Snow White is a role. Thank God us Dads don’t have to wear those heavy dresses!
I tend to through out my Pooh pants.
That is perhaps the most condemnatory piece of writing I have ever read about Islam and I am darkly knowledgable about FGM. When Christians from Africa emigrate to the UK or America they give up FGM. Muslims from Africa have a disturbing tendency to continue it. I’d bet money that this is related to the food thing.
I also suspect that it is related to the culture of tyranny and slavery that so defines Middle Eastern traditions. As far back as the Greeks, they mentioned how there was an absolute ruler, slaves who protected him and the common people who supported him. In Greece, there was a focus on monogamy and the nuclear family even though women weren’t highly valued by the standards of enlightened societies. In think polygamy is related to tyranny.
This is easily the post of the week and will probably be on the short list for post of the year for me. I don’t have a daughter (two sons) but do have a Grand Daughter and she is a spectacular six. I do regret not having a daughter as there is a special bond between Fathers and Daughters not found anywhere else in nature…so I will leverage the HECK out of the relationship I have with my Grand Daughter!!!
What fun.
My husband and only daughter are dear, dear friends. And now she has two daughters. Whenever they see me, their first words are “where’s granddad”?