Not every girl going through a tomboy phase gets a machete of her very own. But I never was every girl.
This is a photograph of me, about ten years old, mad for Enid Blyton books and modeling myself on the character Georgina—"Cousin George"—of the Famous Four. That's my Dad, who was writing a play, and had moved us all to a one room servants apartment on the back of a villa overlooking a beach in Plymouth, Tobago. And that's my machete.
I was a daring girl. The first morning I woke up in Tobago, I set out by myself to explore the village, without bothering to wake up my parents. After a while, I got lost. Fortunately, some nice local gentlemen in an old beat up car gave me a ride home. My parents almost died.
I joke that it's just as well I have sons, and no daughters—my heart would never survive a girl like I was. But if I had a daughter, I'd like to think she'd have a streak of daring, and that I'd find ways—short of giving her a machete—to honor it.
The Double-Daring Book for Girls
has plenty of ideas.
I have a brand new copy of this wonderful book to give away, as part of a book "shower" organized in the
authors' honor by their friend,
Melissa. Just leave a comment letting me know something of the daring girl you were, nearly were, or wished you were, and be entered for a chance to win. I'll use a random number generator to select a winner on Friday, June 19.
Go ahead. I double dare you.
Labels: books
this post lives all by itself here
by Delphine Chedru (affiliate link). Early readers (or listeners) are invited to search for creatures hidden among repeating patterns that are geometric, but whimsical. Beautiful design, accompanied by simple, poetic text. It reminds me how much I loved to study the groovy flower-power wallpaper in the spare room of my grandparents' house when I was tucked in bed there.
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