The Strong Little Princess (or Why We Bought Our Daughters a Tool Kit This Year)

My daughter sits on the floor, lithe legs tucked beneath her knees, as her baby curls reflect the soft morning light. She is rapt with new treasures recently unwrapped and unboxed; an eclectic assortment of trinkets.
She is dressed head to toe as the princess that her Daddy and I think she is, and accessorized with a tool belt and stethoscope. Toy cars, baby dolls, and play hammers are scattered around her.
Though to the onlooker it may appear to be the sort of collection you might find at a rummage sale, but when we were considering gifts this year we chose carefully and intentionally.

I am ever the dreamer; my heart belongs first to Jesus, then my family, but then to Disney. I can twirl with the best of them, and my girls know the Tangled soundtrack manuscript by heart – which I may or may not enthusiastically encourage (and participate in).

I am all about hopes, and dreams, and true love’s first kiss. If I could dance in a ballroom in a flowing gown, you can bet I would, and I am not ashamed to pass that on to my daughters.

They are daughters of The King, after all.

But they are also fiercely strong – strong muscled, strong willed, strong hearted, strong minded. No damsels in distress, these princesses.

The hundreds of doctors’ appointments – accompanied by the creation of a certain intelligent and charming toy doctor – have left them with a fascination of stethoscopes and checkups.

The time spent helping Daddy with his home improvement projects have led to a curiosity of hammers and nails, and visits with older cousins have encouraged a Hot Wheels interest – all of which we eagerly encourage.

Because we want them to know that being girly is anything but weak.

That they can be powerful in their femininity, graceful in their strength.

They can be bold and meek, intelligent and humble.

That it’s perfectly ok to go from work boots to high heels.

That an elegant homemaker can know how to change a tire.

That they do not have to choose between being peaceful and confident, or vivacious and modest.

I want to teach them how to be resolute and respectful.

How to open their hands and hearts, and then be still and wait for love to pour in – and when to pursue love passionately.

That they can be both the princess and the heroine.

Because they have been fearfully and wonderfully made to live life fearlessly by a Wonderful Maker.

We watched them race cars in their flowing dresses, and then burst into fits of laughter listening to each other’s’ hearts,

and I think it was a morning well spent.


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