Am I pretty daddy?
Her words, whether spoken or hidden under the covers of a daughter’s heart, she wonders…
Before her father, she smiles and spins as a music box dancer in her fluffiest dress, with arms stretched out and wind catching her curls as she twirls to the song of her princess ball, yet still wonders…
She wonders each morning as the windows of her deep blue eyes are opened for him to notice…
Am I pretty daddy?
Little girls long to be noticed by their daddy.
No matter her age, whether crawling around his feet or dancing in his arms on her wedding day, a delicate rose among a hillside of splendor whispers under her breath for a father’s attention,
“Oh, pick me.”
“Take me to the dance.”
“Be my special date.”
“Am I pretty in my daddy’s eyes?”
Daddy’s are the fairy-tale in their daughters magical world. 
Daddy’s write their story she’ll remember for a lifetime, a book for which his little girl holds the key, with pages she begs him to read each night at bedtime, always starting from the beginning…
Once upon a time…
“Tell me, tell me, tell me.” She begs him to repeat.
“Tell me about our date.”
“Let’s go back to the dance through the pages.”
“Remind me of all the details I can’t bear to forget.”
“While you read, I’ll close my eyes and we’ll be at the princess ball together again.”
There’s something about daddy’s and his intentional time with her.
One can’t buy this time.
One can’t wish this time.
One can’t put off for another day this time.
This time happens because daddy’s make it happen.
He schedules the date.
She picks out her prettiest dress.
Daddy gets fancy too.
Daddy queues the music.
Daddy twirls her.
Daddy notices her.
Daddy dances with her.
Daughter is pretty in her father’s eyes.
They dance until the clock strikes midnight.
I can’t imagine any girl not wanting to be the princess of her lifelong fairy-tale.
Girls reveal their princess desires in childhood dress up, while playing in her mother’s closet, while walking in the heels of her mother’s shoes.
While dancing in their daddies arms.
Yes dads, your princess waits every night at bedtime to hear her story, the story you have written for her by noticing her, by loving her, by being that Knight on a White horse, by picking her, by seeing her pretty in your daddy eyes.
While daughter’s hold the key to her fairy-tale book, a daddy holds the key to his princess’ sweet dreams, when kissed by him and the things dreams are made of.
Because a Knight with a White Horse pursues his daughter’s heart.
Because a daddy writes their story she’ll remember for a lifetime, a book for which his little girl holds the key, with pages she begs him to read each night at bedtime, always starting from the beginning…
Once upon a time…
