Well that's just super

"I wish I was rubber band man. I'd be made out of rubber bands!" says little dog, once again wishing he was a super hero.
"I wish I was clot girl. I'd be made out of a clot of goo!" I respond, trying to match his enthusiasm.
"Ewwww," replies Big Dog. "Then no one would want to marry you!"
"Lucky for me I'm already married!" I retort.
"Papa would go back and he'd go back to looking for another girl," Big Dog warned.
"I don't think that's true," I say, then turn my attention to Mr. Dog. "If I was a clot of goo would you divorce me?"
"A clot of goo?" he asks, clearly not having been tracking our conversation. "A clot of goo or a clot of glue?"
"Yes, a clot of goo. Would you want to divorce me?" I ask, refocusing him on the important question at hand.
"Well, yeah," he answers, as though it is obvious. "You'd be a clot of goo."
"But I'd also be a super hero. You'd divorce me just because I was a clot of goo? Really?"
"Yeah. Sorry," he says, not sounding sorry at all.
"Wow. I think this points to a serious flaw in our relationship," I say.
He rolls his eyes and goes back to focusing on his laptop. I'm sure he thinks this conversation is over, too.

Undeniable truth

A few weeks ago Aunt Kathleen came to visit. At the time, I was laid up recovering from knee surgery. This means I was mostly confined to my bed. It is a little weird to host guests in your bedroom, well, for me it is. I'm sure there are some people out there who do it all the time. I don't, at any rate.  Occasionally the boys would join us on the king size bed and I'd amuse them by letting them watch DVDs. One of their favorites is the Super Friends series. Yes, that one, from when I was a kid. It's an odd show. They fight evil and in between shows instruct you on craft projects or how to call for emergency help. No matter, the kids love it. Especially Little Dog.

So as we were all hanging out, Aunt Kathleen puts her fist up and says "Wonder Twin Powers, Activate!" expecting her younger nephew to be all into it. He looks at her like she's nuts.
"I don't change into anything," he says. And if I'd been able to see his face from where I was sitting, I'd bet he even rolled his eyes.

Aunt Kathleen persisted, chiding him into a Wonder Twin moment (oddly enough, this looks a lot like a "terrorist fist bump". Might the Obamas actually be the Wonder Twins?). So they give it a try. "Wonder Twin Powers, Activate" and bump fists.
"See," says Little Dog, his voice full of condescension, "I don't change into anything." Snarky little three year old I'm raising, isn't he?

A Change of Character

Although Rocket Boy continues to rule in the Dog household, the special jammies have been in the wash for a while, and his enthusiastic jumping has been sadly absent.

Last night when I put him in his Sea Creature jammies, with pants covered in various fish and sea life, Big Dog announced "Now I am Octopus Guy!"

When asked what Octopus Guy does, we were informed he "Swims swims swims, and now Dash (our new puppy) is eating the all the octopus!"

Can't say the kid doesn't have a good imagination.

Life with Rocket Boy!

Big dog has a minor obsession. His PJs have to match. I can't casually dress him in a pair of shark pants and a top littered with dinosaurs. That would never do. In fact, now when it comes time to put him in his jammies, he always asks "Matching, right mommy?"

Three nights ago, I pulled out a pair of pjs that are getting to be a bit on the small side, but still work. The pants are a deep blue with a rockets and stars pattern and the shirt is bright blue with a big single rocket and the word "ROCKET!" just in case the artist's rendering was somehow unclear to you. After confirming they were a matching set, big dog allowed me to dress him, and suddenly, he became "Rocket Boy!"

Big dog got up and jumped on his bed proclaiming "I have a new suit! Rocket Boy is here!" and demanding that I produce some "Rocket socks to help me fly!" After finding socks, I was dubbed "Rocket Mama" , little dog was dubbed "Rocket Little Dog" and Mr. Dog became "Rocket Poppa".

I don't know what the Rocket family is supposed to do, but it appears much of it involves a 4 year old jumping on his bed with his fists planted on his hips Superman-style announcing he is "Rocket Boy".

We have revisited this scene each night for the past three nights. Now I wonder what will happen when the Rocket Jammies are finally put in the laundry pile and he is forced to wear the "suit" of a lesser super hero, like "Monkies on Surfboards Boy!"

I'll keep you posted.