My daughter and her kindergarten class took a fieldtrip to Kaleidoscope last week, and I got to tag along as a helper. I was so pumped because it is hands-down the coolest kid-friendly treasure in Kansas City. It’s a place where imaginations can run free and creativity has no limits. 

All the parent chaperones were positioned throughout the various rooms and instructed to help the young artists assemble their creations. They put me in charge of a stapler and a roll of tape and had me stationed among a bunch of construction paper, cardboard shapes, and ribbon.

After standing for several minutes with nothing to staple and nothing to tape, I passed some time by fashioning a cape out of a large piece of tissue paper and some ribbon. Then I made a cool hat – at least I thought it was cool – and struck my best Super Man pose with my fists on my hips. Apparently my marketing ploy worked. Soon I had a line of kids wanting their own capes.

My deal with them was that they had to pick out the ribbon, I would staple it on, and they could decorate the cape any way they wanted. And as I tied a cape onto each of the kids, I recited a little ritual that went something like this:

“This is your super hero cape. When you put this on you will have fantastic super powers. What is your special super power?”

“I can shoot fire out of my fingers,” the first boy announced with a dramatic flourish of his hand.

I laughed. With two daughters of my own, my world is full of princesses and rainbows, which has seemingly fogged my memories of the warrior-like nature of boys.

“Remember, being a super hero is a big responsibility,” I said.  “What good can you do with that power?”

And with classic little boy enthusiasm and a karate chop to the air he said, “I kill bad guys!”

“OK, so I guess protecting us from evil is a big help, but what positive things can you do with your super fire power?”

He stared at me blankly, like I had just sucked all the fun out of the game.

“You know, what could you do to help people?”

Bewildered silence.

“Maybe you could cook food for people,” I offered, trying to make it sound really cool. “Or maybe start fires for people who are cold.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” he said with renewed interest. “I’ll start fires for people. They can call me Fire Man!”

“Excellent, Fire Man, now go save the planet.” And off he swooshed to make more art.

The next several kids in line were boys, each with Marvel Comic-type super powers.

“I’m the Ice Man,” said one kid. “I freeze things.”

“I’m super strong and can crush bad guys,” said another.

And then, as if on cue, a little girl stepped up, and declared her distinctly sugar-and-spice-fueled super power, “I help flowers grow. I’m Flower Girl!”

The next girl in line said sweetly, “I’m Bee Woman. I help pollinate flowers.”

For the next half-hour I was a stapler-wielding, cape-fabricating machine as the parade of super heroes continued – the boys leaving their super worlds strewn with super destruction, and the girls using their powers to spruce it back up.

In the final minutes of our session, the last little girl stepped up to receive her cape, and she would proceed to rock everyone’s gender stereotypes.

“And what is your super power?” I asked, expecting something fluffy and sugar-coated.

“Hot lava,” she said confidently. “I shoot hot lava.”

“And what good do you do with your super power?”

“I kill bad guys,” she said with a look that had a huge “Duh!” attached to it.

“Hmmm…let me see,” I said. “You must have older brothers.”

“Uh…yeah. How’d you know?”

“Just a lucky guess.”

What a joy to meet all of those super kids who were super charged to go out and make the world a better place. They reminded me that we each have a distinct super power, and it’s up to us to discover it and figure out how to use it wisely.

So, what’s your super power?