On Being Batman

            We got Kristall a week after her first birthday.  When she first came to live with us she was unresponsive and unattached.  She was the first toddler we’d ever had who could not be comforted by being picked up.  In fact, when she screamed, which was much of the time, if we tried to pick her up to comfort her she would scream louder and arch her back to try to push away from us.

            We knew that she’d had a lot of chaos already in her life.  And we knew that there were a number of reasons to be concerned about her development.  We didn’t know how the future would look for her, but we knew there would be struggles. Early on we started to encourage her independence.  Encouraging her to think and speak for herself.  To be confident.  And to have a voice.

            By age four, she had pretty well attached to us.  She still had some delays.  But there were glimmers of hope.  She was a beautiful little girl with black hair and dark brown eyes.  She would grin, and run away squealing.  Never alighting anywhere for very long.  She was talking more and more, and was surprisingly opinionated on a number of topics.

            She had been talking about Batman for several weeks that fall.  I’m not sure what had sparked this sudden interest in a character that I didn’t even know she knew about.  I didn’t really pay much attention initially.  She’d ask a question about Batman.  I’d answer if I knew the answer, and placate her as best I could if I didn’t know the answer.  But it wasn’t until one particular Friday afternoon when I had her at the store, that I realized the depth of her Batman fascination.

            We were looking at Halloween costumes, just Kristall and me.  She was riding in the top seat of the shopping cart as we wheeled along aisles picking out a few things we needed from the store. When I suggested we get her Halloween costume, she announced, “I wanna be Batman.”

            “You do, huh?” I said absent-mindedly as I looked at all the over-priced plastic costumes.

            “Yeah,” she confirmed.

            I started looking at the first rack.

            “You see Batman in there, Mom?” she asked from her perch in the shopping cart.

            I said that I didn’t, still not really paying attention to her line of thought.  My attention was drawn more toward a darling little honeybee suit, which I pulled from the rack.

            She frowned and shook her head no when I held it up to show her.

            I put it back and grabbed the little ladybug suit.  Equally cute.

            She shook her head no again.  “That not Batman,” she explained.

            I agreed that it wasn’t Batman.  But, I reasoned, it is a cute costume.

            “We gettin’ one for John, too?” she asked.

            Her brother John is two years older than Kristall.  I said that, yes, we were buying a costume for John, too.

            I held up another cute little costume of a horse and rider.  I said it was cute.

            “Yeah, but it not Batman,” she reasoned.

And when I suggested that this one was cuter than Batman she said, “Get it for John.”

            I explained that it wasn’t really a costume for a 6-year-old boy.

            She sighed and folded her arms across her chest, clearly exasperated with me. Finally, in a very determined little voice, she said, “Mom, girls can be Batman, too.”

            And that’s when I stopped.

“Yes, they can,” I agreed on the spot.  “Girls can be Batman, too.”

            She smiled.  Finally I’d gotten it.  All her hard work trying to bring me up to speed had finally paid off.

            We rounded the corner to the next aisle.  And there, pinned to the bottom shelf was a cheap, black, plastic Batman mask, accompanied by a thin, black, plastic cape.

            “Do you like this one?” I asked.

            She grinned.  “Yeah, that Batman,” she said.

            I handed it to her, and she hugged it to her chest.

            “Thank you, Mom,” she gushed.  Then offered, “You wanna get that other one for John?”

            I said no.

            She nodded.  She wasn’t particularly interested in what her brother was going to be for Halloween. So long as it wasn’t Batman.

            Kristall wore her costume around the house every day after that.  She never spoke  when in character.  She would just appear in mask and cape, and stare at us.  We’d say something like, “Hey Batman, how’s it going?”  She’d nod, all seriousness.   Then she’d slip away into the shadows.

            We will continue to watch Kristall’s development, and worry over her.  There have been a lot of struggles so far. Some hurdles she has cleared, and some are still ahead.  We will continue to promote her independence, encouraging her to think and speak for herself, to be confident, and to have a voice.  There have been glimmers along the way.  Indications that she is developing normally.  Extraordinarily, really.  Like when she was four and insisted on being Batman.

            Because girls can be Batman, too.  You know.