How dare you!

Hubby has been very conscious of the pressures little girls who grow into big girls will face in the future.  A lot of that has been seeing the young teen girls in our last youth group, all of whom were convinced that they were one of the following: ugly, too fat, too short, too tall, too out-of-fashion, too something that wasn't quite right.  And no matter how much he assured them that they were beautiful girls, and not fat (this, from girls who might weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet), or how much I said the same things, the girls just didn't believe us.

Society and fashion's dictates on what is the perfect body are unattainable...and the scary truth is, some girls die trying.

And many of these girls come from broken homes, with absent or uninvolved fathers.  But not all.

Scary.

Now, I told you all that to explain this to you: Hubby is determined that our girls NEVER doubt their beauty in his eyes.  He doesn't EVER want them to have to look to their peers to find approval of their looks.  And since the "I'm not beautiful" line has cropped up here, he's determined to stop it now, while he can, while his words and his smile and his hugs and overt love have an stronger impact than they would in, say, another ten years.

Every time he brushes their hair, or dresses them up for church, or gets them dressed on a normal day, he looks at them when he's done.  He smiles broadly.  He touches the precious little face in front of him.  "You are beautiful!" he declares.

So, today, as I was heading upstairs to get a shower, Hubby and I finished up our conversation while he finished brushing Small Fry's hair.

And he finished up while talking to me.

Small Fry was indignant.  "Say, 'You'wre bootiful!'"

Hubby grinned and gave her a hug, I imagine.  "You're beautiful!" he exclaimed.

I'm glad she knows the pattern enough to demand her proper praise.