FLQ MAGAZINE 2ND ISSUE

uncomfortable with the idea of explicitly forbidding my child from
thinking anything. To regulate her relationship with Black Hand seems
like a violation of her personhood on a fundamental level.
Welcome to the liminality
Black Hand has always been the ambassador from the borderlands of
Trixie’s interior empire. When he first joined the family, it was fairly
evident that his role was to act as Trixie’s surrogate in hypothetical
situations. I used to think of her inquiries — Black Hand’s not going to
hold your hand when we cross the street! What will happen? — as the
toddler equivalent of the velociraptor testing the fences in Jurassic Park:
are there consequences for every action?
As Trixie’s gotten older, her regard for the boundaries of her life has
become more complex. So has her relationship with Black Hand. He’s
rarely an instigator or a surrogate in hypotheticals. Instead, Trix explains
things to him. They’ve flipped the script in their relationship.
I will be sad if Black Hand ever leaves us. He’s been a great friend to
everyone in the family: He helped my shy toddler be brave by being the
voice she needed. He taught her how to be silly, how to be funny, how to
control her feelings, how to frame what-if questions.
But it’s not my say whether or not Black Hand continues to levitate
outside the kitchen window during dinner. The relationship is, and
always has been, between Trixie and her friend.
I am deeply, profoundly grateful to her protean pal, because he’s given
me the gift of unfiltered access to my daughter’s inner life. There will
come a day — sooner than I want, on a timeline I’ll never accurately
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