“Certain is that there is no kind of affection so purely angelic as of a father to a daughter. In love to our wives there is desire; to our sons, ambition; but to our daughters there is something which there are no words to express.”
~ Joseph Addison
Introducing you to my son was one of the highlights of this site’s young life. Not only was the series tremendous fun, it allowed my boy to gain a bit of direct insight into what I do and how I interact with the world when I’m not engaged in garbage trucks, super heroes, or monster hide and seek.
Max had a grand time and has since asked (no less that 47,238 times) when we might do it again. Soon buddy, soon. The two of us together read every comment and email, and thank you for your kindness and compliments from the bottom of our hearts.
This week it is my daughters turn.
Mia is magic. She must be, how else could she possibly transform both my identity and destiny just scant seconds after arriving in the world? She is just bright enough to make me believe that children can do just about anything, and needs just enough guidance to make me certain no child can ever do their best without the steady beat of belief behind them.
Mia is our first born; a veritable bulls-eye for every over indulgence we were ever foolish enough to lend our surrender. Though there were roughly 10 billion babies born before Mia, she is the one who taught us how to parent, showed us the rippled image of our deep reflection, and led Daisy and I toward our truest voice.
About three weeks back, Mia lost her two front teeth. This has not only temporarily shifted the character of her face, and made her so heart achingly, beautifully awkward, the void is also an unceasing reminder that the final page of our daughter’s first act as a child has been forever turned.
There is an artist living in the deepest bed of Mia’s inner well. She can whittle hours as she rinses white space with color – crayon, pastel, pencil, paint – she loves them all and wields each with equal abandon. Her love for rich language and vivid color are woven from the same fabric that hangs from her father like well washed cotton.
Mia has taught, and continues to teach me, to constantly reach for my best. There is nothing she won’t try. If Mia can jump onstage and sing kareoke to songs she’s never heard, even though they are familiar to all those around her and she is a few hairs past scared (something that happened at a Hanna Montana birthday party this weekend), then I can push against the wind every bit as hard.
It is our job to set the example for her each and every day, her actions then setting first precedent for Max. It doesn’t matter we come from, only the future we build each day. Mia’s constant glee for life easily pulls us deep inside her moments.
This week will follow a similar template set by Max the previous week. Questions left for Mia today will be answered later.
I’m proud to share my Mia with you. I hope you enjoy her gifts.
Writer Dad
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