As I was tucking in my 9 year old last night, a song came on her iPod. “Who Says” by Selena Gomez. If you’ve never heard the song before, go listen to it. I dare you to listen and not have memories of your childhood stir within you.
My sweet little girl looked up at me and said, “I love this song.”
“Why?”
“Because it makes me feel better.”
Heartbreak.
“Why do you need to feel better?” I ask.
Shrug.
“You can talk to me.”
“Because sometimes I just feel bad about myself.”
More heartbreak.
“Why do you feel bad?”
Shrug.
She’s 9. 9 year olds feel bad about themselves. It’s part of the picture.
My 9 year old happens to be incredibly smart. And beautiful. And funny. And sweet.
She also happens to fight with her sisters, hates doing her homework, and whines insecently.
I know she has to sort through feelings of being inadequate. It’s part of growing up.
I hate it.
I wish I could make it all better. All I can do is be there for her to talk to.
And Selena Gomez… thanks for the song. It helps.
Who says
Who says you’re not perfect
Who says you’re not worth it
Who says you’re the only one that’s hurting
Trust me
That’s the price of beauty
Who says you’re not pretty
Who says you’re not beautiful
Who says
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Well… I happen to think she’s a TERRIFIC kid… so there! Love, Daddy.