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She’s a beautiful little girl, long reddish blonde hair and gray-green hazel eyes. We call her Princess and it is very fitting. She is sensitive beyond belief, easily upset but, loving and generous. She loves to dress-up. She has gown, feather boas, jewelry, tiaras, crowns, and play high heels. She sings and dances for her courtiers, Beanie Babies, and her little sister.

She has loved pre-school from the very start, hesitant for me to leave but, enticed by other children her age, music, Play-doh, and paints. Blossoming happened slowly, she started to talk more at home, asking for what she wanted, and doing things even if she knew I wouldn’t approve, finally.

The dresses started after pre-school, before that she wore whatever was closest and didn’t notice what it was. Then I had to answer the question; "Do I look pretty? " Every time she got dressed for school. My answer was "Yes you are always pretty, inside and out." She now insisted on dresses for school each time.

The holidays arrived, a Christmas concert for school, another dress. She found it at a department store, an emerald green velour top with an ivory overlay skirt. Perfect for her, of course, I bought it for her the minute I saw her eyes light up at the sight of it.

My husband is a wise and wonderful man who is the best dad I have ever met. Every night regardless of how many people have abused him all day long, he asks each of our three girls how they are and what they did each day. The Princess is our middle girl and we strive to keep her feeling special. We have had many discussions on how to avoid having her fade into the crowd.

She is very excited to show him her new dress for the concert. "See Daddy, it’s your favorite color. "She tells him in a high-pitched squeal, and holds it out to him.

"Oh, it’s beautiful. "He tells her and holds it up in front of himself. "It’ll look great on me. "He teases her.

"No Daddy, boys don’t wear dresses. "She tells him matter-of-factly. "Only girls do. "

Six months ago, this statement would have passed right by me without any notice. I froze, my mind whirling around that innocently made comment. I am not one to keep quiet, at all, especially if I feel something is wrong.

"Boys can wear dresses if they want." I correct her, my husband catches my eye, and he knows after twenty years how to read my mind.

"Sure they can." He agrees. "I can’t wear this one though, it’s too short." He holds it high against his six-foot tall frame.

"Oh Daddy, you are so silly. " She giggles at him. "And we are going to sing Frosty and Jingle Bells." She carries on and starts to dance about the kitchen to an odd mixture of all the holiday songs she has learned. The moment passes, I stand conflicted, make my point or let it pass? After I draw a blank on how to explain total clothing rights to a pre-schooler I decide to let it go.

The question remains will I raise a narrow-minded bigot? Does it skip a generation? How much influence do my husband and I really have over our three girls? This didn’t concern me six months ago before I had seen Dress to Kill and learned about the comedian behind it. It worries me now.

This is the influence Eddie Izzard has had on me, to look harder at myself and my life and the way I am living it. Will this be enough to raise open-minded thinking human beings? I hope so, and I promise to keep on trying to be a good influence on my girls and to teach them to respect and tolerate differences in people. I feel it is a way to give back to someone who has given me much joy. And I hope it helps.