When I was pregnant, one of the first things I did was to buy a little painted bookshelf for the baby. My husband and I tried to make a date night each week where, after dinner, we would visit the bookstore to slowly build a small collection for her. We both love to read so we really looked forward to going. As we began placing books on the little shelves I realized we were really filling her library with our loves, our hopes, and dreams we had for her. We bought favorites from my youth like Madeline, a sweet daily devotional entitled Give Me Grace and our old dinosaur books even managed to find their way in. When she was first born we read to her each night but let’s face it, we also read for ourselves. To this day my husband’s favorite book of hers is One Ted Fell Out Of Bed. Now that she is older, we have infrequently resurrected our old bookstore date nights (party of three now,) proud that she loves exploring the shelves even though she is really just beginning to read. On this night I decided to head down to the cigar shop and let them have a daddy/daughter date. When we met back our little one came running up to me saying, “MAMA! MAMA! LOOK WHAT DADDY BOUGHT ME!” My husband, with a slight blush, told me it was in the clearance bin. She could not stop chattering about the precious box she held full of ten plastic, colored, winged ponies. At least she came out with a book I thought, as the story was inside the box. I tried to follow the unGodly complex lineage and storyline of these creatures — I really did. But My Little Pony is more complicated than a soap opera! My head began to pound after almost half an hour of earnest listening. And then I realized her father had let HER choose her own book, allowing her to read about interests she has developed all by herself. The American novelist Lauren Myracle said, “Ideas matter. The world matters. Our lives matter, and the choices we make as we navigate our lives perhaps matter most of all.” My parents empowered me to make my own choices. That is my fervent wish for my child. I don’t want to clip her rainbow pony wings; I want her to soar.
