Irene Wilde
New Member
To my darling daughter,
You cried in my arms tonight, at the end of a long day. Third grade has been a big adjustment to make; everyone is growing up and there are new rules on the playground. Winning is becoming more important -- who is fastest, who is strongest -- these are factors that have suddenly become important in the life of 8 year olds. Sadly, because you are your mother's daughter, you will never be fastest; you will never cross the finish line first. I know how much it hurts to always be the one who comes in last. I know what it feels like to be judged for all you cannot do, even when you try your best.
In my heart I know the words, the grown up words, to say. How in a few years these things won't matter so much anymore and all the things you are -- your bright mind, your beautiful spirit, your boundless imagination and creativity -- these are the things that will be important and then people will see your true value and not care one bit how fast you run or how well you hit a ball. But I don't have the 8-year-old words to explain this to you.
You cried in my arms that you are different. My beautiful little girl, of course you are different -- you are unique, special beyond compare. Right now, different seems such a horrible thing to be, but soon, very soon, I promise, you will be glad you are different. Being different is going to open so many worlds to you that less different people never know exist. Being different will make you interesting, and the same people that turn from you now will wish they knew someone like you; someone who is gentle and kind, someone creative and clever, someone who always has a smile and a willingness to give, someone extraordinary.
I know I cannot spare you the pain of growing up. The slings and arrows of childhood are still there, just as they were when I was your age, an awfully long time ago. But have courage and patience for just a while longer. There are amazing adventures waiting for you outside the playground, beyond the walls of third grade. There's a great big world waiting for someone different, someone special, someone just like you.
I love you, Sweetheart.
Mommy
You cried in my arms tonight, at the end of a long day. Third grade has been a big adjustment to make; everyone is growing up and there are new rules on the playground. Winning is becoming more important -- who is fastest, who is strongest -- these are factors that have suddenly become important in the life of 8 year olds. Sadly, because you are your mother's daughter, you will never be fastest; you will never cross the finish line first. I know how much it hurts to always be the one who comes in last. I know what it feels like to be judged for all you cannot do, even when you try your best.
In my heart I know the words, the grown up words, to say. How in a few years these things won't matter so much anymore and all the things you are -- your bright mind, your beautiful spirit, your boundless imagination and creativity -- these are the things that will be important and then people will see your true value and not care one bit how fast you run or how well you hit a ball. But I don't have the 8-year-old words to explain this to you.
You cried in my arms that you are different. My beautiful little girl, of course you are different -- you are unique, special beyond compare. Right now, different seems such a horrible thing to be, but soon, very soon, I promise, you will be glad you are different. Being different is going to open so many worlds to you that less different people never know exist. Being different will make you interesting, and the same people that turn from you now will wish they knew someone like you; someone who is gentle and kind, someone creative and clever, someone who always has a smile and a willingness to give, someone extraordinary.
I know I cannot spare you the pain of growing up. The slings and arrows of childhood are still there, just as they were when I was your age, an awfully long time ago. But have courage and patience for just a while longer. There are amazing adventures waiting for you outside the playground, beyond the walls of third grade. There's a great big world waiting for someone different, someone special, someone just like you.
I love you, Sweetheart.
Mommy
