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“Scrunchy girl!” says my Middle Child (the one who craves attention). Interesting.
Then my analytical Oldest Child thinks for a moment before replying, “Batgirl, because she flies.” Hating to burst Oldest Child’s bubble, but not wanting her to go on another minute being ignorant, I mention that Batgirl doesn’t actually fly.
“A dragon!” I hear a wee voice shout from the back (my Baby – he’s 3, but forever my baby).
“Then I want to be Catgirl,” she says.
“You mean Catwoman?”
“You know, she doesn’t fly either.” Being a mother can be such a buzzkill.
“A dragon!” the wee voice repeats.
“I don’t care, she’s pretty and looks like a cat.” Great – I’ve instilled superficial values in Oldest Child.
“I’ll be Batgirl!” Middle Child announces. She’s also my people pleaser. “Because I want to ride a motorcycle!” Suddenly, a flash of my poor attention-craving people-pleasing Middle Child as a rebellious teen jumping on the back of her college dropout boyfriend’s Harley pops into my head.
“A dragon!” Baby shouts more definitively this time, snapping me back to reality.
“Is a dragon a superhero?”
Baby nods. Then he says a bunch of random stuff, most of which I don’t understand. But, from what I can gather, this “dragon” flies high, breathes fire, and is a good guy not a bad one. Then Baby holds up a sticker with Iron Man on it and says, “Iron Man can turn into a dragon.” I don’t question.
“What about you, Mommy?” Oldest Child wonders. I tell her I would be any character who has the ability to clone herself. Because, honestly, if I could be in multiple places at one time, I would occasionally have time to rest.
And for a moment there is complete silence in the car.
“Well, I think you should be Super Mom,” Middle Child pronounces. I was actually hoping for Wonder Woman – she’s young, sexy, has killer hair. “Because you’re a really good mom and super cool.”
Aww, Middle Child… Predictably stroking my ego. But hey, I’ll take it!
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