I have two little girls. (I also have two bigger boys, and if there was another option, I'd probably have two of those as well because we do things by twos in this family.)
My little girls are 7 and 5. One is a creative introvert with a kind heart and a mane of curls. The other is a plucky extrovert who strikes up conversations with the most unlikely people and then reports back, 'Well, they were very nice.'
I look at these two and wonder how they can be so absolutely perfectly themselves all the time. They just are. When I hear horror stories about the life and times of teenage girls I want to clamp my hands over my ears and run around in circles singing, "I can't hear you! I can't hear you!' (I can be surprisingly grown up on occasion.)
My little girls are friends with their bodies; they run around, they swim in waterholes, they climb trees, they skip. My little girls, so far so good, are also friends with me. I want these two things to co-exist more than anything. If I can get any of this mothering caper right, I would like it to be helping my girls love their bodies, and themselves, just as they are. Because from where I sit they are (warning: rampant maternal bias ahead) mind-blowingly beautiful, inside and out.
I recently read this and hope that other mums the world over will too.
Indigo Kate x