Speaking of Super Woman

Super Woman has been on my mind, lately, and not because I’m a fan, at least not of the real Super Woman (now Wonder Woman, on the other hand…), but I am a fan of my own mini-Super Woman.

How she came into being is a bit of mystery.  I say a bit, because I know where the costume came from, a neighbor, two years ago, who was discarding her daughter’s no longer used dress up clothes.  I know where it was stored, under the crib, but Little Lady never went under there.  What I don’t know, is exactly how Little Lady found the outfit, after I took her crib down and removed it from her room.  Nor, do I understand her love affair with her new found get up.

But, love it, she does.  Just like the knee socks phase, and her boy phase, and her Cinderella phase, Super Woman has taken over with a vengeance.  Little Lady goes out of her way to find this outfit, and then demands that I put it on.  You already saw my gun toting mamma Monday night, well, that costume has made an appearance everyday this week, including to school on Thursday, and this morning.

I think she’s exploring the character.  One day, she was Ride Your Bike Around the Neighborhood Super Woman. Then, Don’t Mess With Me Super Woman (for which she added the boots).And, Look What I Can Do Super Woman.She was also Self Admiring, Sweet Super Woman,Contemplative Super Woman,I Got Some Moves Super Woman.Whoa! Watch out, Super Woman! The worst part about all this dressing up, she gets so much attention as Super Woman, that I fear she may never put on another outfit again.  The best part, she enters a room like she owns it, thrusts her hip out and just waits for the complements to come.  I have to tell you, I admire her confidence!

Super Woman, or rather the costume, has only been washed once.  Last night, after I wrestled it off her, I threw it in the laundry basket.  Out of sight, out of mind, at least that’s what I thought.  This morning, she came downstairs, costume in hand and asked me to help her put it on.

“No,” I said.  “It needs to be washed. Pick another outfit.”

She cried, she screamed, she threw herself on the ground.  I held firm, but Little Lady is no quitter, so when she stopped crying, I didn’t take it as a sign that she thought she was defeated.  No, from the way she ran away, costume trailing behind, I knew she had bigger plans.

I was right.  My seat at the breakfast table offers me a somewhat unobstructed view into the playroom. What I can’t see, is usually revealed through the reflection in the french doors. This is what it showed me this morning.  So, I moved in for a closer look,
and even closer.Proving no obstacle is too big for Super Woman, she ran right to her big brother.  He was only happy to help her.

Super Woman, in all her stinkiness, lives another day.

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