A- (5.85 yrs old), J- (4.25), and I biked 2+ miles to our favorite park. No training wheels. No issues. It wasn’t the first time.

Somehow, once at the park, while walking their bikes, I heard a noise and turned to see J- had fallen. Two moms nearby fulfilled their unsolicited and unhelpful duty of pitying the boy. I pedaled on, wondering why my progeny ever got off their bikes.

After our lunch at the park, it was now A-’s turn to make a noise while falling which attracted my attention. This time it was a nearby, skinny grandma who lurched and wobbled in indecision as she couldn’t decide her place in the wide world.

I, projecting loud enough to be sure this skinny (I want to say “crackhead” but you’ll think I’m judgy) grandma would hear, said, “She’s okay! She’s okay. Bruce Wayne’s dad let him pick himself up, and he became Batman. So I figure that’s the best way.”

I would’ve expected silence, and maybe a chuckle. I mean, what options had I left open for response anyhow? Firstly, it ain’t her kid and the father made his pronouncement—even giving the reason. Secondly, mind your own business, especially when a father is around.

But nooooooo.

She replied, “Or how ‘bout she just has girl power?”

It’s been over an hour and I am still under a disturbed spirit.

If my daughter had girl power, if girl power existed, then she wouldn’t have fallen, ya stoop-id b-!

No, ma’am. My daughter doesn’t have girl power. She has a dad. And her dad likes Batman, especially in the role of allegory. And her dad knows that humans of both sexes fall down, and when that happens, the only thing to do—the best practice for all places and times—is to let kids learn how to pick themselves up.