There is a feeling of wonderment as a child, a feeling of invincibility, the feeling that I too could be a superhero. As a child it was much easier for me to slip into this mentality; into this world that I was that special case who gained powers, and who had to deal with the great responsibility of using them for good. My favorite way to express that feeling, that need to be more than I was, was to act it out. 

On screen there would be a battle, the Wasp would be fighting the Enchantress and the Executioner while accompanied by her friends. The Avengers: Captain America, Iron Man, The Hulk, Ant man, Black Panther, Hawkeye, and lastly me. Sometimes I would be the new kid to the superheroing buisness, someone who somehow made it big and joined the Avengers, much like Spiderman, or I’d be a sibling, a little sister, a cousin, someone somehow related to a member. We’d be the best sibling fighting team that the world has ever seen. (Sometimes we’d be what I imagined my brother and I could be, if he never became to “cool” to play with me.) 

I would mimic the moves of whoever I identified the most with at the time. If it were Wasp I would leap from cushion to cushion, throwing blankets and pillows around with the sheer energy of the jump. I’d make noises with my mouth, “Pew Pew Pew!!” as my own energy beams erupt from my hands, (though my powers would mimic Wasps, they were vastly different, for I was the Hornet instead, or even the Honey Bee) I would meld myself into the world of the Avengers, suddenly the coffee table became the testing tank of A.I.M and my stuffed animal would become Modoc. I would save the day, with my found family at my side.