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All those other girls are cake…I’m Crème brûlée…Tiramisu, if you will. Just a few notches above
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It’s not very easy to grow up into a woman. We are always taught, almost bombarded, with ideals of what we should be at every age in our lives.
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All those other girls are cake…I’m Crème brûlée…Tiramisu, if you will. Just a few notches above.
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The day came when she discovered sex, sensuality, and literature; she said, ‘I submit! Let my life be henceforth ruled by poetry. Let me reign as the queen of my dreams until I become nothing less than the heroine of God.
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When it seems you are pretty much of a fool after all—she can make you a king when she climbs on your knee and whispers, “I love you best of all!”
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She can muss up your home, your hair, and your dignity—spend your money, your time, and your patience—and just when your temper is ready to crack, her sunshine peeks through and you’ve lost again.
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They smile that smile, they bat those eyes. They steal with hello, they kill you with goodbye. They’re the perfect drug. As you’re walking away, you hear that sweet voice, ‘Stay’
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The treacled pop songs, the dresses described in the catalogs with words like ‘sunset’ and 'Paris.’
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She is loudest when you are thinking, the prettiest when she has provoked you, the busiest at bedtime, the quietest when you want to show her off, and the most flirtatious when she absolutely must not get the best of you again.
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One of the biggest mistakes girls can make concerning their romantic life is sitting around waiting for their prince to find them, rather than getting out there and finding him themselves.
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We must teach our girls that if they speak their mind, they can create the world they want to see.
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