(Note: The following includes spoilers for Robin #172. With deepest thanks to Project Girl Wonder.)

Doctor Merlin is fortunate to have been on a bit of a vacation this past week with Mr. Merlin and their offspring. Many sights have been seen, many Nanas have been kissed, and many hours of television have been watched on a brand new cable system. The children have watched The Pink Panther and Batman: The Animated Series by their own requests. Supergirl-themed car floormats have been embraced with squeals by Doctor Merlin's daughter. Doctor Merlin's son has happily and intentionally worn a pirate headscarf while proudly proclaiming himself to be Captain Jack Sparrow. This has caused much steepling of Doctor Merlin's fingers as she has hissed, "EXcellent."

Children are inherently fannish. They are. Only the most dour (or sheltering) parents object when their sons make pretend capes and claim to be Superman. Little girls are encouraged to have tea parties with their imaginary friends such as Dora the Explorer or (ergh) the Disney Princesses. Playing pretend with action figures and dollies, whether it's throwing wee little weddings for Luke and Leia (don't judge me I was five) or having Duke and Flint set Chewbacca's X-Wing on fire, has been a part of our lives since we were children. As fans, we continue to play pretend well into our adult years, exchanging stiff action figures for the much more easily contorted people in our heads, and putting those to keyboard. But when we were kids, everybody did it.

When Doctor Merlin was knee-high to a Cylon, she regularly asked her friends and playmates what shows they liked, who their favorite characters were, and if they wanted to play pretend. A particular set of her cousins held a years-long multigenerational "Masters of the Universe"-themed role play, until they got bored and went onto other things. (Doctor Merlin is still working on the storyline and will probably write it down one of these days. Shame is something that happens to other people.)

Now, her sprogs are the ones playing pretend, and shaping their journey is a long, sometimes frustrating process. The Girlchild was introduced to DC Comics characters early in life, when Mommy went a touch overboard in her Justice League Unlimited obsession. Girlchild was presented with a Supergirl Barbie and a Wonder Woman doll for her second birthday, and she bonded with the Barbie satisfactorily. She is enamored of all things Supergirl: clothing, stationery, ad yes, even floor mats. Living near a Six Flags, Supergirl items are even more readily available than they might normally be. While Doctor Merlin searched in vain during her own youth for a Teela action figure (and actually drooled when a college friend showed her a Pumyra action figure) the Girlchild thus far has much easier access to her squee. She is a Gargoyles fan, coming in via the Milton Bradley board game of all things, but in possession of a number of action figures due to Mommy's earlier obsession. Girlchild is alas also enamored of all things princess-like, which has led to hurried attempts to introduce her to Princess Leia.

The pink is sometimes overwhelming. We fight back as well as we can, with lightsabers and karate lessons, and sometimes it sticks and sometimes it doesn't. Yesterday, when the Boychild put on his Batman shirt and pants, the Girlchild exclaimed excitedly that now he could be Batman and she could be the girl Batman rescues.

It is to headdesk. Repeatedly. With rum.

The Boychild is both easier and harder in his own way.

Doctor Merlin's kids are not quite at the point of writing their own stories yet. Doctor Merlin's friend's daughter Elf is and does, and at the age of four dictated two Justice League fanfics.  Another friend's daughter was watching Justice League with the grownups and grew attached to Hawkgirl. When the little girl had to undergo some painful medical tests shortly afterwards, she told her mother she was "going to be brave like Hawkgirl," and the pretense helped her get through it without tears.

There's hope. There's always hope. Kids not only pick up on things their parents like, they also pick up on what their parents find acceptable and even praise-worthy. Doctor Merlin's own parents both wrote fanfic, most notably in the Man From U.N.C.L.E. and Star Wars fandoms, and when Doctor Merlin's mother was in Forever Knight fandom a few years ago, she allegedly bragged a bit about a certain litmus test that shall not be named. So this particular brand of crazy, when nurtured, tends to propagate. Listen to sea shanties in your minivan, and you too will be told your daughter's favorite song is: "What Do You Do With a Drunken Sailor?" Make Big Scary Freak jokes whenever Batman is onscreen and sure enough, the wee ones will be spouting that, at high volume, whenever they see the Bat signal and even when they don't. Give your child Wonder Woman and Supergirl dolls, and the white Barbie dresses you might possibly have saved from your own youth, and stand back as the two of them get married amid an appreciative audience of Barbies, My Little Ponies, one's original (and sadly now one-armed) Uhura dolly, and a oversized Superman sippy cup.

Yesterday, when Girlchild made her gleeful announcement, Doctor Merlin sat her down to remind Girlchild of all the superheroes she has seen who save the boy heroes using their own superpowers if they had them and their karate if they didn't. Then Doctor Merlin reminded her that it was Wednesday and time to go to the comic book store because Mommy wanted to pick up something new. On the way, Girlchild learned about the Girl Robin, who had been named Stephanie, and how cool she'd been, and how she'd died (though not the details) and why we were making a special trip to Daddy's old comic book store. While we waited in line to checkout, Girlchild got to flip through Robin #172 and see Stephanie Brown, alive and well. Doctor Merlin also introduced her to Rocket from Icon, because Doctor Merlin's comic book shop never has Milestone titles available. Girlchild has two more heroes now. (We can deal with the "unplanned pregnancy" angle of both when she's a little older.) Boychild was just happy to see the giant Superman standee in the corner of the store and he flapped his arms in excitement until we left.

A squee shared is a squee multiplied. A squee shared with your kid? Priceless.