A father holds his little girl in his arms and she asks, “Daddy, what will I be when I grow up?”

Predictably, her father gives the requisite answer, “Anything you want to be, dear. There’s nothing you can’t do.”

“What if I want to be an astronaut and fly to the farthest star?” she asks.

“Then you will be the most wonderful astronaut to ever enter outer space,” he says.

“What if I want to be a ballerina and dance and dance and dance all over the whole world?” she asks as she jumps down from his arms and twirls in circles.

He smiles as he watches her. “Then we will buy you toe shoes and you can dance around the globe.”

She waltzes over to a mirror and plays with her hair. “What if I want to be a model in all the magazines?”

He removes the cell phone from his shirt pocket and takes her picture. “Then you will be the prettiest super model to ever have her picture taken.”

She looks in the mirror a few more seconds, then walks over and takes her Daddy’s hand. “And what if I want to be a mommy, like my Mommy? Can I do that, too?”

He picks her up and holds her tight, “You can,” he tells her, “and you will be the best mommy any little boy or little girl could ever hope to have.”

She wrinkled her face. “I’m not having any boys. Boys stink.”

“Yes, they definitely do,” her father laughs.

And she grows up, and becomes everything she wants to be: an astronaut, a ballerina, a model, and a mommy. She flies to the stars, then dances on earth; graces the cover of fashion magazines, then goes home and cooks dinner. Every day, she is a hero, a warrior, and a champion.

How does this happen? Not because of who her parents were, or because of where she grew up, nor because of the color of her skin, nor the religious organization to which she belonged. The reason is much more basic.

Because when she was a little girl, someone told her she could do anything, and that person never let her stop believing in what she can do.

Every little girl and little boy deserves the same, don’t you think?