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When my little girl was a little girl, she wanted the same, simple, uncluttered and achievable future every little girl desires: to be a ninja rock star princess spy. While most of that fell along the wayside as she blew through her days, she did accomplish one of her goals. Briefly, for a day, for an afternoon, my daughter was the greatest superhero the world has ever known.

Being a young lady of the post-information-age-age, my daughter, Sarah, knew she had to have some accessories if she was to be a proper super hero. First on the list was a cape. Next was a logo. Third was a catchy name.

Being an old man of the pre-information-post-information-transition-age, I knew this was kind of awesome. At 3 1/2, she already knew the importance of marketing. But first, a cape.

A pillowcase was quickly dispatched. I tied it around her neck and she launched herself into the stratosphere, flying around the living room and kitchen in a low orbit, making shushing noises as she skimmed clouds and looked down on creation with a knowing, wise, battle-hardened gaze.

Next was the logo. It had to go right in the middle of the cape, which she assumed was valuable and approached me tacitly with an idea that she might keep the cape, to which I agreed. She grabbed some markers, dropped down in front of the TV and went to work.

Her cousin had already begun her superhero career as Bingo the Saver Dog. That she is non-canine was never an issue. Never even occurred to me. Of course she’s Bingo the Saver Dog. She drew a dog wearing a cape—on her cape. Voila, a superhero is born.

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