Her Sense of Self

“You’re a crazy young woman!” I heard Quinn say to herself this morning. 

And then I heard her respond, in a slightly different voice:

 “I’m not a crazy young woman. I’m Batgirl!”

One of the ironies here is that before I got out of bed this morning I was trying to think of what stories I wanted to preserve from this past month, and one that came immediately to mind was Halloween. The other irony, obviously, is that in talking to herself, as she walked around the house, she was demonstrating her craziness, which was also kind of batty. Quinn’s evolution continues to entertain, inspire and challenge us, and I hope it always will. 

Sometime last month we had our first parent-teacher conference, and we were eager to hear what her primary teacher at her new school would have to say. We were eager and a little nervous; she is a powerful force--for better and for worse. Fortunately, her new teacher is known for dealing well with kids like Quinn, the especially strong-willed girls. And from the first minutes of our meeting, I knew she understood our girl. “Quinn is really smart,” she said, “And she really likes routine. And, she’s a little bit tattle-taley.” 

She grinned at that last part while we laughed and processed. I reminded her that Sam and I are both teachers, and that we can handle the truth. “You don’t have to code it for us; you can say manipulative instead of smart.” But she didn’t modify. We talked through the details, and agreed on it all. One of the details was that Quinn spends much of her time telling other kids what they should and should not do. Her teacher painted a funny picture: she will be doing something in the kitchen, for example, and Quinn will show up by her side. “So-and-so is doing xyz!” she’ll say, waiting for her teacher to be horrified and jump into action. Instead, her teacher will casually look down at her. “I know,” she’ll say, as she absorbs Quinn’s shock at her indifference. “I’ve got it under control, Quinn, you don’t have to worry.” Her goal for Quinn, she told us, is for her to “work on just being a kid.”

The problem is, Quinn doesn’t really think of herself as just a kid.

Last year for Halloween, Quinn wanted to be a butterfly. She didn’t really get what Halloween was all about, so I bought her some wings and pants in the same color and she was satisfied. She looked pretty and sweet, but the butterfly didn’t really match her personality. This year she wanted to be Batgirl. This year when she put her costume on, I felt like I was looking at her inner being shining out...a little dark, a little bit alarming in her confidence, ready to take flight to fight for what she believes is right. 

The emphasis here is on fight. She is a fighter and, while I don’t always love having to fight with her, I love that she is not afraid, love that she has strong beliefs, and love that she will let no one walk on her, or on anyone she is determined to protect. 

On Halloween this year, we took Quinn to the local trick-or-treating mecca. The town closes the road to traffic, except for the tractor-pulled wagon that hauls kids from one end of the road to the other so they can trick-or-treat their way back to the beginning. We went with friends: Quinn’s pseudo-sibling and his parents. As soon as we were off the wagon, we reminded the superheroes of the drill: go to the door, say trick-or-treat, hold out your bag, say thank you. They only needed to be told once. 

For the rest of the night, the two kids were at a full sprint. While other kids walked down driveways with their parents, Quinn and her buddy cut across lawns at full speed. His mom and I could barely keep up, and we didn’t know whether to panic or laugh as we watched, from a distance, as our kids would burst through people’s front doors and disappear into their living rooms. The dads walked slowly behind, drinking beer, happy in their own conversation. I think I laughed the entire way back to the car. 

Afterward, we all went out for pizza. A little hopped up on candy and adrenaline, a little close to bedtime, the kids were wired. But, we made it through dinner without any blow ups between them. The only blow up was theirs directed at me toward the end. I made a rookie move and gave them each a piece of candy after dinner was done--I thought both families were on the same plan: eat some real food, then you can have one treat. But we weren’t on the same plan and when Quinn’s friend was told no, he burst into tears. And so did she. Tears were inevitable at some point, so at least they happened as we were all getting ready to leave. I kept trying to calm her down, “Why are you crying?” I whispered, “you can still have your treat in the car!” Batgirl was outraged, “I’m crying because he’s crying!” she demanded, incredulous that I had to ask. Quinn lectured me all the way home about the importance of checking with moms and dads first. 

I know she’s just a kid, and I want her to enjoy being a kid, but I also want to appreciate her for who she is. She has strong intuition, she understands things, and more and more when she encounters frustration or difficulties, she’s willing to “talk it out.” And if I’m organized, and can help her prepare for what’s coming at her, she shines. 

And the best news of all, is that when she sees herself, she sees herself smiling.

One of my many hopes, as I imagine her into the future, is that she will keep learning to use her powers for good.