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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.
Published in General
And if you’re lucky it continues on. That’s my daughter with her daughter and there’s the little one a bit later.
I miss those Little Girl days. But sometimes, just sometimes, my girl will lean over on my shoulder while we’re watching TV and say something and kiss me on the cheek. And she’s still my baby.
Some aspects may go on. I’ve watched 80 year old men get wrapped around the fingers of their 50 year old daughters just as thoroughly as younger dads get wrapped around the fingers of their little girls. We had dinner last night with a family in which the 70 year old dad/grandfather is enthralled with his 42 year old daughter, and even more so his 7 and 5 year old granddaughters. Those little girls definitely have grandpa’s number!
Magic is evil.
I’m just sayin’.
;-)
Transitive? A implies B, B implies C? Maybe. Little girls can have those moments, too. (:
My pumpkin is the pumpkin-iest pumpkin that ever pumpkined.
I sent my wife a link to this, because I knew if I tried to read it to her I would never have made it though without choking up.
I wonder if that “cultural” thing that the Egyptian doctor complained about results from the reality in some cultures about raising their children. That reality is that many children die. Another child will be born, inevitably. So, since children are so easy to come by, don’t get too attached to the ones you’ve got. After all, in a society where there isn’t the luxury of advanced medical care, vaccinations, and all that, lots of children don’t make it to adulthood. And, they are an extreme burden for at least the first five years of their existence. They can hardly give any benefit to the family until they’re past toddler age.
I’m not being sarcastic, or cynical–just realistic. We, in this advanced society of the United States, have developed a very different notion of children in the past century or so. Children mostly survive childhood now. Many families have chosen to have only two children, and so those two are much more significant in the lives of their parents. In the “olden” days, [before vaccinations, penicillin, and electricity] having a child die was not uncommon. People tended to have more children (pregnancy-prevention was not as effective) and, frankly, people in a rural world needed lots of children to help with all the work.
Then, you add Christianity to this equation, and scriptures like in Matthew 18, or in Luke 18 ,where Jesus teaches the value of little children to his followers, and you’ve got a society that has a more positive attitude about children.
I know that my life as a mother is the greatest thing I’ve ever done…or will ever do. My children are all adults, and some of their children are in high school now. But, still, I’ll always feel that unbelievable devotion toward those “babies” who were the result of Mr. CowGirl and I loving each other that much.
So how about you mate with one woman and spend all your money making sure your spawn is a good person?
Shut up, Boss! You ain’t foolin’ anybody this time…
Little girls are indeed magic, even when they are no longer physically so little. My little wife is actually littler than she was 46 years ago, but our daughters are still magic, fully grown, and our granddaughter, who really is little, amazes us every day because she is no longer a cute mascot, but a miniature person. You forget the fun of the early years, and new generations are given to remind us anew about the magic.
Dr. B, that was beautiful, from beginning to end. I suspect your daughters think you’re pretty magical, too. What a lovely, lovely bond you have.
What a Canadian thing to say!
Thanks for sharing the magic, Doc.
My magical one just found an apartment in Chicago for after she graduates, but despite how busy she is, on her way back to school, she stopped by to visit her old man for a day.
For a small slice of time, everything was ok.
Considering how @jameslileks talks about his own daughter, I wouldn’t be a bit surprised.
A good dad is pretty magical too.
I’m not sure when I’ll see mine again (Corona Virus means that there’s a good chance if I leave England for Hilary Term break I won’t be able to reenter and I need to sit summer exams), but I think about him every day. He’s the first person I send (the rare) essay feedback from tutors to and who gets a picture at least every 3 days on WhatsApp, so he knows that I’m alive. He cheered me on through NHD competitions, brought me to job sites almost from birth and was the first person to know that I was definitely going to my first choice college. (Sorry Dad, but I was just so excited to get those AP results that I didn’t consider that having someone jump on your back from behind while fitting a window might be shocking). I’ve been dad’s weird little girl from day one, and I can say, having had a dad who thought girls were magic, that those kinds of dads are just as extraordinary as they think their girls are. And now I’ve made myself home sick.
One thing to mention – there is a definite trend of love for children in the middle ages, Renaissance, and enlightenment era. (as an example, the great mathematician Euler loved his children and often worked on this theorems with them on his lap or otherwise close at hand. That paid off when he lost his sight in old age, and his children helped care for him and record his work.) The Puritans and Pilgrims certainly lost many children, but there are still headstones and memorials for the dead children.
Our pets have short life spans, yet that does not encourage a lack of concern for their well-being or regarding them as disposable.