I met Wonder Woman yesterday.
She’s two feet tall, wears a red cape and boots (for to kick butt. Her words).
And a big crown and a blue lasso of truth. Because blue is her favorite color and boys can suck it.
She stood in front of the libary counter, hands on hips sizing me up.
Do you know who I am?
Indeed I do.
Stares some more.
You are not a woman to be messed with.
She relaxed a bit.
I heard they even made a movie about you.
Dropped her hands and smiled and ran away in search of her mom somewhere in the libary.
When mom finally came to the counter, Wonder Woman in tow, she confessed that her little WW has been talking about nothing but WW the movie for a couple of months. They were on their way to catch a matinee.
I know it’s PG-13, but I guess I am just that kind of mom.
I smiled.
I don’t know what that means.
It means she’s an awesome mom! Our volunteer Patti, who had been silently watching piped in.
The look on Wonder Woman’s face told me Patti nailed it.
They walked out, Wonder Woman wrangling her blue lasso out the door.
There goes my hero, I thought to myself.
Ugh, that is such a shit song.
