My 5-year-old daughter wanted to play “makeover” the other night, and she insisted that the game should be reciprocal. I got to doll her up, and she got to do the same with me.
The bright pink lipstick Daisy applied to my lips in clown-like fashion was not exactly flattering. The excessive body glitter she sprayed on my arms and neck was a little over the top for laundry night. And my hair, which had been matted down by a hat all day, was not easily coaxed into a glamorous “do.”
But my daughter surveyed her work, and decided that I looked “beautiful.” To show her how much I appreciated her efforts, I kept the Mrs. Cleaver look while folding laundry and putting freshly laundered sheets on the beds.
I was still reeling a bit from the results of my daughter’s transformation.
She’s the “baby” of my three, still small and snuggly enough to be carried around and wrapped up in my arms. But after just a touch of pretty makeup, with her hair in curls and tiny feet thrust into too-big silver heels, she was a little lady. She stepped in front of the full-length mirror, and smiled a shy, self-conscious-but-proud grin.
It was a glimpse into the future of my strong girl with striking features who will someday all too soon be a young woman. I will make sure tonight to wish on the stars that when her mesmerizing dark chocolate eyes begin to attract attention, she is confident enough to handle it with grace and wisdom.
I will also ask the stars to grant one more wish: that someday, this little girl will meet somebody wonderful who is as enchanted as I am by those stunning features, but even more so with her mind and heart.
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