The existential dilemma of a three year old Superman
Yesterday was the party for my godson's third birthday (which was actually Friday - my dad's birthday was yesterday), so I went over to PB&J's place and girded myself for dealing with a couple of dozen toddlers. And a Moon Bounce!
It wasn't actually a Moon Bounce, it was a pirate-themed water bounce thingy. It was awesome.
I arrived with a wrapped present (a Richard Scarry book), and as soon as Ben saw it he asked, "Can I have that?"
"Well, that depends," I said. "What's your name?"
"Superman!"
"You're Superman?"
"Yes."
It was hard to argue the point. He had a Superman shirt on and everything. (Daddy, by the way, was wearing a Batman shirt; Mommy was wearing a Green Lantern shirt.) He wasn't wearing his cape, but it wasn't too far away. (The cape is pretty awesome - it's a Superman cape on one side, Batman on the other, which came in handy when Daddy needed to carry it around.)
"Well," I said. "Then this isn't for you." I pointed at the card envelope on top. "Is that your name?"
"It's Superman!"
"I know, but what does this spell?"
"I don't know."
"I know!" shouted Big Brother. "It says 'Ben' on it!"
"That's right. This present is for Ben. Are you Ben?"
"No, I'm Superman," said Superman.
"Well then this isn't yours. It says 'Ben' on it."
That stumped him.
"Are you sure you aren't Ben?"
"No, I'm Superman."
"I'll go put this back in the car then."
"No!"
"No? But it's for Ben, not Superman. Wait a minute - what's your secret identity?"
"Clark Kent."
Not the answer I was hoping for, but it got a laugh from Mommy and Daddy.
"Tell you what," I said. "I'll put this inside, and if you see Ben, you can give it to him."
"Okay."
"Okay, Superman. Happy birthday."
"Thank you!"
For the record, Ben's middle name is Clark (for Superman, actually).
The party went well. It was scheduled for 11:00 - 1:00, and right around 1:00 all the parents packed up their kids and headed out. This is what happens when most of the parents are lawyers.
There was bouncing. There were bubbles. There was pizza. There was Superman cake. There was a sugar rush. And then there was crying on the Moon Bounce when there were issues about cutting in line. It's like they were trying to fill up their gas tanks. The cuteness was overwhelming.
Within a few minutes after the last of the kids had left with their Superman gift bags, complete with Superman stickers!, Superman himself was out cold in his bed for a nap.
After we packed up the Moon Bounce and sent it on its way, Daddy, covered in Superman stickers!, went down for his nap, too. I left to get a haircut and a baker's dozen pumpernickel bagels from Bagel Palace. Pumpernickel rocks.
Pictures from the party are here.
Quick gas station story:
Of the two gas stations closest to me, the BP is completely out. The Chevron had been out for days, but must have gotten a shipment in overnight because there was a line of five cars spilled out onto Boulevard, waiting for $4.09 gas. At 10:15 on a Saturday morning. I stopped by the station in Little 5 Points to pick up a bag of ice for the party. No one was there, but it looked like they had gas at every pump (at $4.29).
I was tempted to fill up, but I was already running late and I still have half a tank, and I'm not one of Those People. I refuse to give in to the panic buying, and besides, I'm sure there's someone who needs those seven gallons more than I do right now.
On the way home, around mid-afternoon, I passed two stations on the corner of Clairmont and N Decatur (I think - I get confused in that part of town) with lines snaking way out onto the roads. People were clearly Not Happy.
Have I mentioned lately how much I love my two mile commute?
It wasn't actually a Moon Bounce, it was a pirate-themed water bounce thingy. It was awesome.
I arrived with a wrapped present (a Richard Scarry book), and as soon as Ben saw it he asked, "Can I have that?"
"Well, that depends," I said. "What's your name?"
"Superman!"
"You're Superman?"
"Yes."
It was hard to argue the point. He had a Superman shirt on and everything. (Daddy, by the way, was wearing a Batman shirt; Mommy was wearing a Green Lantern shirt.) He wasn't wearing his cape, but it wasn't too far away. (The cape is pretty awesome - it's a Superman cape on one side, Batman on the other, which came in handy when Daddy needed to carry it around.)
"Well," I said. "Then this isn't for you." I pointed at the card envelope on top. "Is that your name?"
"It's Superman!"
"I know, but what does this spell?"
"I don't know."
"I know!" shouted Big Brother. "It says 'Ben' on it!"
"That's right. This present is for Ben. Are you Ben?"
"No, I'm Superman," said Superman.
"Well then this isn't yours. It says 'Ben' on it."
That stumped him.
"Are you sure you aren't Ben?"
"No, I'm Superman."
"I'll go put this back in the car then."
"No!"
"No? But it's for Ben, not Superman. Wait a minute - what's your secret identity?"
"Clark Kent."
Not the answer I was hoping for, but it got a laugh from Mommy and Daddy.
"Tell you what," I said. "I'll put this inside, and if you see Ben, you can give it to him."
"Okay."
"Okay, Superman. Happy birthday."
"Thank you!"
For the record, Ben's middle name is Clark (for Superman, actually).
The party went well. It was scheduled for 11:00 - 1:00, and right around 1:00 all the parents packed up their kids and headed out. This is what happens when most of the parents are lawyers.
There was bouncing. There were bubbles. There was pizza. There was Superman cake. There was a sugar rush. And then there was crying on the Moon Bounce when there were issues about cutting in line. It's like they were trying to fill up their gas tanks. The cuteness was overwhelming.
Within a few minutes after the last of the kids had left with their Superman gift bags, complete with Superman stickers!, Superman himself was out cold in his bed for a nap.
After we packed up the Moon Bounce and sent it on its way, Daddy, covered in Superman stickers!, went down for his nap, too. I left to get a haircut and a baker's dozen pumpernickel bagels from Bagel Palace. Pumpernickel rocks.
Pictures from the party are here.
Quick gas station story:
Of the two gas stations closest to me, the BP is completely out. The Chevron had been out for days, but must have gotten a shipment in overnight because there was a line of five cars spilled out onto Boulevard, waiting for $4.09 gas. At 10:15 on a Saturday morning. I stopped by the station in Little 5 Points to pick up a bag of ice for the party. No one was there, but it looked like they had gas at every pump (at $4.29).
I was tempted to fill up, but I was already running late and I still have half a tank, and I'm not one of Those People. I refuse to give in to the panic buying, and besides, I'm sure there's someone who needs those seven gallons more than I do right now.
On the way home, around mid-afternoon, I passed two stations on the corner of Clairmont and N Decatur (I think - I get confused in that part of town) with lines snaking way out onto the roads. People were clearly Not Happy.
Have I mentioned lately how much I love my two mile commute?