My daughter lives in a bit of a friend bubble with her brothers since she has yet to attend school. I’ve often wondered if I should schedule more playdates, or any at all. Whenever we go to a playground or park, she’s always been more of a watcher than a participator. She likes to sit on the sidelines and sheepishly grin at the ruckus the other kids cause. I’ve wondered if I was scarring her social growth.

Abby has just recently taken a keen interest in her older cousin, the only other little girl in our family, 4 years separating their age. Slowly coming out of her shell, where once she’d be too timid to join in, they now sit enthralled, if slightly perplexed, by one another. Digging through a collection of small bottles of nail polish and lipglosses and everything pink. An older cousin who understands because she has 2 older brothers herself. Except she doesn’t get to see her often enough, then of course doesn’t want to leave once there. And when Abby comes home, it’s back to fighting bad guys and Incredible Hulk.

She’s a girl who can do it all, except move away from the window.

“There she is!”, Abby exclaims gleefully. My daughter sits perched, patiently watching, until the pair notice. “She sees me!”, she declares, beaming. Soon enough, they’re gesturing and making funny faces at each other through the closed window. Until it’s time for them to leave, my daughter’s new friends she’s never met, where they wave their goodbyes until next time. Maybe, then, in person.

I know that if I ever want a true opinion of how I look on any given day, I just need to ask Jedi. At 8, he’s still as brutally honest as they come. Never does he miss a chance to tell me that he doesn’t like how I fixed my hair or if my breath doesn’t smell so pleasant. He’s caring, that way.

He’s not the only one, however. Buzz has openly stated his opinion on the freckles on my face and his grandfather’s white hair.

Neither of them tell it like it is like Abby, however. 3 years old is a ripe age for curiosity. And honesty. When her grandpa goes in for a kiss when she doesn’t want it, she thinks nothing of pushing him away. “I’m not talking to you”, she’ll inform whomever when she’s not in the mood. “You’re big”, with a scrunched nose is another favorite. And we won’t get into what she says when she watches me in the shower.

The other day when my parents were over for a visit, she followed her grandma into the bathroom. I heard them giggling a bit long after they were done. When they emerged, it seems my mom had a taste of her candor.

“Your daughter told me I had a big butt”, my mother repeated, utterly shocked.

To which my dad, snapping quickly in laughter, “Well, you know little kids don’t lie”.

And apparently, neither does my father. I guess honesty runs in the family.

“Why didn’t you say anything about what I just did? Did you even pay attention?”, he interrogated, already perfecting his irritation and angst.

“Oh, sorry. It was awesome”, I praised half-heartedly, snapping out of whatever daydream I was finding myself in.

Clearly noticing my indolent disregard, a problem that he will most likely delve into during therapy sessions later in life along with the overwhelming confusion that can come with an ounce of fake praise, Jedi sulked before continuing. I swear I could see him kick his feet, “You didn’t mean that. You’re not supposed to say that, anyway.”

Pretending to be annoyed, I defended, “Yes, I did mean it. It was awesome. Wait, what am I not supposed to say?”.

“Awesome. You can’t say that word. You’re not allowed.”

“Why am I not allowed to say ‘awesome’?”

“Because it’s not a word for girls”, he said. And then, “Only boys can say awesome.”

That’s not awesome. Awesome is a descriptive word for so many occasions. I would be lost without awesome. Like Jedi, he’s awesome. And you know I’ve been saying awesome as much as possible, even more than usual. Because I’m a girl and girls are awesome. Awesome does not discriminate.

I have a 5 year old boy who wants to be a superhero.

He spends his days hulk smashing and climbing invisible spiderwebs in an effort to save the world. People in his pictures are colored green, blue, and red. In the bath, he’ll take his shampoo-lathered hair and stretch it into Wolverine-inspired side horns. Over the years, he has acquired a collection of super alter egos, each with it’s own distinctive look and plastic freeze-framed mask to match. He changes in and out with the speed of Superman. His imagination is nothing if not wild.

Even when it shouldn’t be.

“Put the Incredible Hulk on for bed”, Buzz insisted within moments of turning the sheets down for the night, his feet fighting for footing in the green and purple faux-muscled fabric disguise.

“No, we’re not wearing that to bed. You know you need to wear your pajamas”, I told him. Because even superheroes take off their mask for a good night of rest. My pleas were only met with encouragement, however, as his little sister helped fasten the closures in the back. The trusty sidekick.

Suffice to say, he wore the Incredible Hulk to bed. And the world slept a little safer.

But at least he took off the mask.