Lessons from Wicked (And a Very Boring Potato)

Today I gifted my niece the Wicked dolls—Glinda and Elphaba—for her birthday. To make the experience even more magical, she and her dad watched the movie together the other day. What followed was a conversation that reminded me just how perceptive and insightful kids can be.

My niece: “Why is her face green and nobody else’s green?”

Her dad explained, “She’s just different. She was born that way, but that makes her special and unique. That’s a good thing! If everyone looked the same and dressed the same, wouldn’t that be boring?”

My niece, without hesitation: “YA! Boring, snoring, like that potato!”

The potato in question? A character from I’m Bored—one of her favorite books. In it, a talking potato complains that kids are boring. (Which is ironic, because he’s the boring one.) It’s my niece’s ultimate insult, and honestly, I respect it.

My niece: “Why is she sad?” (When Elphaba arrives at the party wearing the hat)

Her dad gently explained, “Glinda was being mean. She tricked Elphaba into wearing that hat because she thought it was ugly and wanted people to laugh at her. She was kind of being a bully… but then she saw how it made Elphaba feel and tried to make up for it. She realized bullying is wrong.”

My niece, shaking her head: “I don’t like bullies.”

My niece: “I think everyone thinks she’s the bad one, but I think she’s actually the good one.”

She saw through the story in a way that some adults never do. “She’s trying to save the animals! And her friend, the teacher goat.”

“Why do they think she’s bad?” she asked.

Her dad answered, “Probably because she’s different from everyone else, and some people don’t like that.”

She pondered this for a moment. Then, as kids do, she was quickly distracted—because, well, a talking goat is way more exciting than any adult’s explanation.

But in that brief exchange, she grasped something profound: the way we treat people who are different, the way labels are assigned, and the power of kindness.

The world could use more empathy like hers—people who see past appearances, question what they’re told, and instinctively side with what’s right. And it could also use more dads like my brother—the kind with the patience to impart empathy, to help a child understand not just what happens, but why it matters.