Story by Danielle Sherman-Lazar
“I want to play with them,” my daughter said, pointing behind me. I turned around, and all I could see were two older girls, probably around eight years old.
“With who?” I questioned my soon-to-be five-year-old.
“Them,” she pointed again, and right at the older girls.
“They’re a little older,” I paused. “You can play with them, but you need to ask them,” I then hesitantly answered, afraid of them rejecting her.
She took my hand in hers and ran up to one of the girls. She asked if she could play with them with such confidence. Her voice never wavered.
And those two older girls looked at each other, and both nodded—thank goodness! And the three of them played hide and seek and chased each other all over the park.
And me, I was in awe of her because I don’t even know if I could be so bold as a woman in my 30s. Because, me, I have confidence that has been hard-won and purged of fear.
But my strong-willed daughter has a natural ease and confidence in herself. And the only person’s opinion that she cares about is her own, and though it’s hard to parent, it’s so admirable to witness.
And there’s everything right about that. Because my daughter, her strong-will— it’s a natural gift.
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