A little bit on little girls.

Well, Natalie's in bed. Roscoe's crashed out on the floor. The TV's off. Didn't feel like fighting to get into Dreamland--sleep eludes me just now--so I thought I'd write a quick thought down. Want to make sure I don't forget it later.
As you know, Natalie's due with our first child here in a few months. She doesn't want to know what it is, boy or girl. I do, but I respect her wishes on this one...She's the mom, after all =). Plus, like Natalie says, it's the biggest miracle a person can experience. Will knowing the sex of the baby really change anything--besides getting red/blue/pink/purple onesies instead of yellow/green/white? Not really.
I'm for her decision, our decision, as I said. BUT...and there's always a but...there is one thing that knowing might change: my nerves. Now, I'm not all anxious--not climbing the walls over here-- but a little girl puts the fear in me. My sister has her daughter Ava, friends of ours have had little girls recently, and the Lord bless 'em for it. I know it's doable, but man...what do I know about little girls??
I know little boys, I can speak their lingo. Heck, half the time I'm still one of 'em. Little boys play hard, get dirty, get their knees bloody, climb trees, fall out of said trees, fly by on their bikes, eat curb (or street) when said bikes crash, and do it all over again. And that's just in the span of an afternoon. An hour, if they're like I was. Can a little girl do all that? Well, yes, of course. My problem isn't with a little girl, then. I guess it's with myself.
What happens when the little girl scrapes herself on the pavement and bleeds a little? What if she climbs that tree and, Heaven forbid, takes a (short) fall? If it's up to me, here's what happens: I jackhammer the &*^% out of that street and install mattresses down its length, and then I burn the tree down. Easy day.
But I know I can't do that. The city doesn't have enough money in its budget to fix all those streets, and I don't own a jackhammer. Yet. So what, then? I'm ridiculously old-school when it comes to girls. Little ones, especially. They need to be protected, loved...did I mention protected? Natalie says I'm her knight, and I admit, when it comes to self-image, I generally have a decent one; I like to cast myself in that role too. Knights are protectors. How do you ask a knight to let down his guard a bit, and allow the little girl to learn through experience? That is beyond me. I know it'll be necessary to do so at times--after all, she comes from tough stock, and we're all generally a hard-headed lot. She'll try to go on her own, tackle her own challenges, and more often than not, by the grace of God, I know she'll win. But how will I be able to stand by as she takes her lumps along the roads of "Life" and "Experience"? Thank goodness she'll have Natalie. Thank goodness I have Natalie. Natalie'll help rein me in when I need to be. I'll somehow do the same for her; after all, she's the one who has to deal with the "mother's instinct," and if she's anything like my mom, it'll be a strong one...

Lest any trees feel encouraged, I may not have a jackhammer, but I've got plenty of matches...

PS: Since I know jack about raising a little girl, whenever any kind of "Lightning from Heaven" strikes me on my noggin, I know I better write it down. You know what got me tonight? Actually, it came to me last night, but I was again confronted by it a few hours ago. Girls need heroes too. Crazy obvious, right? Not to me. I am so fixated on the idea of little boys and their heroes, how important it is for them to have a pattern of greatness to model themselves after, that I entirely skipped over the fact that girls need heroes too. And not just the knight-types; they need their own heroines.
The other night while talking on the phone with my mom, she mentioned Esther of the Bible. We were discussing Senator McCain's pick for VP, Sarah Palin, and Mom wondered about a comparison between the two. That comment led Natalie to ask me more about who Esther was, so we pulled out the Bible and checked her out.
Natalie and I have a (usual) tradition of reading a bit of the Bible aloud before we call it a night. As I read Esther's story last night, I could tell how into it Natalie was--enraptured, for lack of a better word. She was into that story, just as much as she was into the movie we went and rented tonight: "One Night with the King," the movie version of Esther. Esther is a woman a little girl can get behind; a woman with courage, passion, wisdom, etc. Shoot, Esther's a woman ANY woman can get behind. Seeing how much Natalie got out of Esther's story just brought home to me the importance of our little girl--should we be so blessed--having heroines to emulate. I've read so many history books and military biographies, I've never thought providing a little boy with stories of courage and "derring-do" would be a problem. I just can't believe I didn't realize how necesssary it is to make sure a little girl gets the same...Wow. Captain Obvious strikes again...
Oh, and a quick disclaimer: I can neither confirm nor deny the presence of a little girl in Natalie's tummy. Heck if I know what kind of kid we got cookin' in there...=) Just had this on my mind tonight.