I want to teach Evelyn to never go to bed sad. Always give one big goofy grin to me or Dad or herself before she falls asleep. A chandelier smile.
I will teach her to be kind and respectful, but if some old cow adult is mean to her, then she can be mean back for just a second and then walk away. And I will tell her that she shouldn't have been mean back, but we'll both know I don't really mean it.
I want her to know that yes, her daddy and I were happy and had fun before she was born, but there were colors missing from the rainbow. We got purple and indigo when she came along.
I want her to be like me, only better.
I want to teach her that anything on a stick is beyond wonderful. Just ask a lollipop or sparkler or marshmallow.
I will teach her that making a living is not the same as making a life.
I will teach her that it is a thing of beauty to make others feel good about themselves, so she should maybe not say the weird stuff that instantly comes to mind but maybe think up something sweet.
I will teach her that it is ever so important to play every day. Also to sing and laugh and dance and make messes and clean them up.
I will teach her that it is okay to be sad, but that she shouldn't count on it lasting very long because I'm a professional cheerer-upper.
I want to teach her to stand out in a crowd because of her beauty or her grace or her humor or her crazy hairdo. But if she wants to just take a break and blend for a while, that's okay too.
I will teach her to rock her strengths and giggle away her weaknesses.
I will teach her to glow.