Yesterday, Baby Girl brought home a notice—her class was decorating their room door with pictures of their heroes, so each student was asked to bring in a picture of their own personal hero.
I asked her who her hero was and she responded immediately:
The warm and fuzzies spread through me, but then a strange thing began to happen.
I started to think of other people that I considered more deserving of being my daughter's hero.
I thought of my parents, who are so patient, attentive, and not-shouty with my daughter—all the things I'm not as often as I'd like to be.
I thought of her brother, my stepson, who even though he only gets to spend half of his time with us, has accepted the sharing of what used to be all of the attention for him, as well as being a loving, tolerant, and educational big brother.
I thought of her father, who works his ass off—sometimes day AND night—to support our family and provide the cushy lifestyle that this family enjoys.
I thought of Rosa Parks and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr, who Baby Girl just recently learned of, and their significant contributions to not just my daughter's race, but to all of humanity.
I thought of Tata Madiba—Nelson Mandela—still with tears in my eyes, his incredible sacrifices, his world-changing political and humanitarian efforts that were so monumental for my daughter's homeland. I even tried to convince her to take a picture of Mr. Mandela instead of me.
Then I stopped myself.
Why was I trying so hard to invalidate my own qualifications as a hero?
I asked Baby Girl why I was her hero and do you know what she told me?
Because you love me and take such good care of me.
What kind of hero am I, if I refuse to even listen to my fan club of one or if I teach her that the love and care of someone so precious isn't hero-worthy? Why do I think I need to do so much more than what I'm already doing to deserve hero status?
So today, and apparently every day, I am my daughter's hero.
I accept this honour with pride, from my little hero.
Love you to infinity and back, infinity times, my darling. xo
If you enjoyed this post, you may want to check out my tribute to Nelson Mandela, or my expression of my feelings to the most important woman to my daughter and me.