Life Without a Cage

Beckett is at that age.

You know the one. The one where you turn your back for an instant and your newly toddling toddler has scaled the refrigerator and is standing atop it, hand in the cookie jar, and a huge grin on his face? Yeah...that's the one.

On Monday, when I was out shopping, I sat him on the counter as I fumbled in my wallet for my debit card. The salesperson told me I couldn't do that because if he fell, the store would be liable for his injuries. So, I put him on the floor beside me, his favorite stuffed doggy in hand. A moment later, I realized that he had toddled over to a shelf, picked up a teddy bear, and was running out the door of the store and into the parking lot! This, of course, came on the heels of the knife incident on Saturday, and mere moments, after I sat him on a bench outside the same store to answer my phone, and had him try to climb over the back of the bench.

Later i, I was talking to a friend at Brendan's soccer practice. She told me about her sister who has five sons. They're all grown now, or at least in high school, and thankfully, all still alive. But she said that when the second oldest of the boys was around 7, her sister went into his room to check on him and could not find him. She tore the house apart looking for him and finally found him on a shelf in the top of his closet, sound asleep.

Those of you who don't have sons are probably sitting there, mouths agape, wondering how that could happen.

Those of you who have sons are laughing knowingly.

Yesterday, after Beckett had unplugged the dock for Scott's iPhone and took off across the room, iPhone in one hand, toy microphone stand in the other, laughing gleefully, in frustrated jest, I declared, I need to put that child in a cage just to get anything done around here!

Brendan, who put me through the wringer himself at the same age, agreed. Then earnestly asked, Do we even have a cage?

Only the sibling of a 15-month old brother could agree that caging the beast is the best course of action.

Walk Like an Egyptian

Sunday night I was cuddling with Brendan in his bed and we were watching a Blue's Clues video called Blue's Room World Traveller.

In the video, Blue and her brother Sprinkles travel to three different countries/continents/environments looking for magic keys. One of the places they visit is Egypt.

Brendan says, Mommy, I think Egypt looks cool. And I said, Yeah. So do I. Egypt is one of the places Mommy has always wanted to visit. Maybe I'll take you there some day.

There was a long pause as he thought about this. Then he said, I'll need my sandals. Trying not to laugh, because of course, he's right, I asked what else he would pack.

I'd need my sandals. And I would need water. And my sunglasses....And my moose.

His moose is a small, plush moose his step-grandmother brought back to him from a trip to Vancouver and lately he carries it everywhere.

I'm curious now to know what he'll plan to take on other trips. He also wants to go to Scotland, so next time I have the chance I think we'll plan for that trip, too.

Flow

I have a short list of things I want to accomplish this week and I can't seem to focus on it.

I spent a good portion...okay...ALL of yesterday running around doing errands. By the time I got showered and dressed and out the door with Beckett yesterday it was almost 11 a.m. We went to Big Lots looking for Easter eggs for Brendan's class egg hunt today; found storage baskets for our new basement playroom that we painted on Sunday; drove to another part of town and picked up some stuff I had ordered last week; shipped a package and faxed a form; ate lunch; came home and collected all our books and videos that were due at the library; picked up Brendan from school; went to the library; went to Target; came home. By then it was 4 p.m. The boys played while I cooked their dinner and wrapped a present.

We had a babysitter come at 6 p.m. I put both Beckett and Brendan in bed around 7 p.m. and then Scott and I went out to dinner with our friend Barrett to celebrate her birthday. We went to an amazing restaurant. It was definitely an adventure. We were home by 9:30.

Brendan awoke around 1 a.m. coughing and ended up in our bed. But then Scott wasn't able to sleep and we ended up talking until 3, I think. Then, Brendan woke up again around 5 a.m. coughing and I moved him back into his room, gave him his inhaler again, and tried to sleep in his room but he kept stealing the covers and complaining that his legs hurt. I tried massaging them, but then Beckett woke up. I got him settled back down and then it was almost 6 a.m. so I moved Brendan and myself to the living room, put on Cartoon Network and made a pot of coffee. I dozed off and on while reading all of YOUR blogs until it was time to dress Brendan for school. Needless to say, we were late.

I have an article due next Monday and I need to follow up with two other potential clients.

I also want to put our rec room/playroom back together now that the paint is dry because that is also where I have created an office space for myself and I'd like to work down there.

And did I mention that my ear still hurts? And I still can't hear? It's driving me nuts! I am so ready to pull a Van Gogh or something similar. I'm definitely calling the doctor today about both myself and Brendan. I was hoping to avoid this since I have spent about $300 in co-pays for myself and my children this month. Of course, I'm thankful that's all it was. I am extremely grateful that we have insurance. That said, we don't have the hospital bill yet. It's possible insurance didn't cover some portion of it.

Enough rambling. On with the show...

You Don't Have to Live Like a Refugee

If you have never checked out Blogger's monthly Blogs of Note, you should. There are always some beautiful gems among them.

This month I found one that is, perhaps, the most moving blog (it's actually a collection of material from other blogs that are all part of a real-world and virtual community) I've ever read.

Here's a link...Unseen Dharamsala. Check it out!

Track 300

So, here we are...I'm writing and you're now reading, my 300th blog entry. Technically, if you count the blog posts I've written and deleted for fear of offending someone or all the brainy and thoughtful insight I've had while driving or taking a shower that has never made it from my mind to the keyboard to the screen, there are probably a few hundred more. But, let's focus on what has come to fruition here on this little blog.

I first attempted to start writing here in 2002, but couldn't commit to the daily routine of it. I got serious about it in 2005. From the fall of that year, it took me two years to write 200 blog entries. I did that sometime this past fall. Of course, it's one of the entries I deleted because, although I didn't intend for it to be offensive, apparently, I was inconsiderate and hurt a friend's feelings with it and felt like an idiot for not realizing the power of my words. So....anyway, since October, I've written 100 blog posts.

It's kind of hard to believe. I know there are folks who write 365 or more posts a year. And I truly admire them, their commitment, and their prolific gifts.

But that ain't me, Babe.

Oh, I wish it were. How I would love to have this time each day to thoughtfully consider what's going on in my world, both the parts close at hand, and the world at large. The problem is, I get too busy living to always take the time to record and share the actual experiences of living or to share my (unrequested) opinions on all this crazy world has to offer.

I've wondered if it's worth it to keep writing here when I don't post everyday. When I feel like I'm not really saying anything important or useful for others. But, it makes me happy. And when you can choose to something that makes yourself happy without causing any harm to anyone else, why not? It's a cliche, but it wouldn't be if it weren't true...Life really is too short not to let yourself be happy once in a while.

So, grab a cup of coffee and stay for a while. I'll be back with more crazy mommy stories, more funny kid stories, more proud wife and mama stories. And of course, more bitching and moaning because I know you all can't get enough of that. Ha!

Par for the Course

I just thought I should add a quick update.

Beckett seems to be running at about 98%. He seems fine except for the runny nose. He's going about 90 miles a minute, into everything. Yesterday he scared the bejeezus out of us. Thankfully, Brendan is an exceptionally good brother and a tattletale who knows when to call in the big guns by declaring, It's an EMERGENCY!

So, what happened, you ask? Good Lord! Beckett figured out how to open the dishwasher by bouncing against the door until it falls open. So, he did this while I was upstairs, and took out a giant carving knife. And carried it from the kitchen to the living room, which involves coming down a step. A step he had fallen down earlier in the day.

When Brendan called me to come, I thought the emergency might be that Beckett was spilling juice, his new favorite activity. But something in the tone made me run downstairs. I'm feeling like a bad mom even though they were only alone a few minutes. It just never occurred to me that he'd open the dishwasher.

Brendan managed to be our hero in spite of still feeling sick. I had to pick him up early from school Friday because he was not feeling well. I'm really worried since he has been sick for two weeks now.

My ear infection is only marginally better. It doesn't hurt constantly, just some of the time. But I still can't hear and it feels like I have a carrot or a sock or rocks or something stuffed inside. Still, I didn't let the fact that I'm taking three medicines (my kitchen countertop looks like an old lady lives here!) stop me from going to a birthday party for three of my girlfriends. It was a very low-key cocktail party at one of the girls' homes, but it was the first time I'd been out around adults who weren't doctors and nurses in over a week. it was very nice. And the three glasses of Pinot Noir I drank gave me exactly the false sense of well-being I needed to make me forget my ear infection for a few minutes.

Today, Brendan is running a fever again, but seems to feel better after a does of Motrin.

Keep your fingers crossed for me that he gets better and the rest of us also continue to improve.

And keep your fingers crossed that Scott doesn't get sick. He has a show on March 27. Speaking of which, if you're in Atlanta, listen to Dave FM for a radio spot for that show....The Lizardmen with Special Guest, Scott Downes. It's a show at 1five0. I just thought it was pretty cool!

Hurt

I just want to go on record as saying, Ear infections suck.

I have not had an ear infection since I was a small child. Until now. I finished my antibiotic two days ago, but last night woke up with excruciating pain in my left ear. Earlier in the night the congestion in my head made it feel like I couldn't hear.

This morning I called my doctor and told him what was going on. He called in three new prescriptions for me. A steroid to reduce the swelling in my eustachian tubes; a new decongestant that is more head-centric and less focused on the chest; and Hydrocodone for the pain. I took one pain pill at 3 p.m. and another at 7 p.m. and I'm still hurting.

I don't know how this is possible, but I am so thankful neither boy has had an ear infection yet.

Thank You

I just wanted to write a post saying how grateful I am to have friends who are so eager and willing to step up when they're needed. From the dear friend who sat in the ER with me for six hours and ran every errand imaginable including picking up my car at the pediatrician's office and getting me lunch to the doll who brought me a lasagne this morning, I am truly blessed.

In addition to all the wonderful friends in my life, I am also blessed right now to have more work than I know what to do with (I'm not complaining!). I have two articles I'm ghostwriting, one of which I got because I called to interview someone for the first story. And there may be more. If only I knew something about income trusts....

I am beginning to see what is really possible when you start thinking positively and focusing your energy on gratitude instead of fear.

On the Road Again

Slowly we emerge from the dark cave of despair.

Beckett came home from the hospital Saturday afternoon and continues to improve. I think he was happiest just to be able to roam freely about the house and play with his toys.

Brendan returned to school today. He was happy and his friend Kush gave him a big hug and said, "I am sorry you were absent, Brendan." It was somehow very formal and very sweet.

I picked up where my mother-in-law left off with cleaning my house. That wonderful woman did all of our laundry and organized my laundry room for me. She cooked a big meal Sunday night so that we'd have leftovers and she made me a bunch of her delicious chicken salad so I have lunch for several days.

I'm trying to organize an office space for myself in our basement and turn the rest of the area into a family room/playroom area. I need paint and a rug. To start with. Not sure what else we need. I don't feel like painting though. I need someone who likes painting so much they'd do it in someone else's house. I like it, but I'm too tired right now.

And now I'm rambling.

So, this is where we are. Better. Not 100%. But much, much better. Thank you all for the kind words and wishes.

Breathe

No profound insight or deep meaning today. Just a quick update.

Brendan has been sick since last Monday. Fever of 103, general malaise. Doctor said it was a virus, he'd be better in 48 hours. Ha! He's still sick.

I started coughing a day or two later. Beckett awoke yesterday at 4 a.m. with the croup. I took him in to the pediatrician who determined he wasn't oxygenating. His oxygen level was in the 80s, so she insisted he be transported by ambulance to the ER so he could be on oxygen. Brendan and I rode along. Spent 8 hours in the ER before he was admitted. He has to stay again tonight.

I was coughing like crazy last night and having sharp pains in my ribs and feel like I have a weight on my chest. Saw my doctor 30 minutes ago who told me I have a sinus infection, bronchitis and walking pneumonia. Oh, yeah. And an ear infection. Fun stuff.

So, now I'm going to the grocery, to pick up my three prescriptions, and head back to the hospital to relieve my mother-in-law.

Say some prayers for us that we all recover quickly.

You Don't Pull No Punches

My friend whose baby girl died of SIDS last year is expecting a new baby. She's actually due in just over three weeks.

Last night, our Bunco group hosted a shower for her. It was so much fun. It was a surprise and so cool to see the look on her face when she realized what was going on.

I was one of the co-hosts and was tasked with doing something with champagne. So, below is a recipe I found that turned out to be very tasty. I'll share it. I'm not generally a fan of super-sweet punches, but this one is a little different.

1 can Cherry-Pomegranate juice concentrate (original recipe calls for cranberry juice concentrate, but I substituted this)
1 can Pink Lemonade
1 can Limeade
2 bottles Champagne
1 bottle white wine (I used a Riesling)
1 liter club soda

1 lemon sliced
1 lime sliced

Blend all in a punch bowl and add fruit slices. You can also add frozen strawberries or raspberries.

I made a puree of fresh strawberries and fresh mango which I then froze in some butter molds shaped like dogwood blossoms and floated them on top of the punch. It was a very pretty and refreshing punch.

Five for Fighting

I'm stealing this from Rennratt because I just thought it was pretty funny. It probably has something to do with being battered and bruised by my own five-year old who thinks I'm his personal jungle gym to climb on, jump on, tackle, kick, punch, or otherwise roughhouse with, all in the name of playing Transformers or Spider-Man.

19

I say, bring 'em on!

Further on Up the Road

Your Life Path Number is 22

Your purpose in life is to use your power for good Of all the life paths, yours has the most innate power. Your power lies in your vision, and you must recruit others to help you in this vision. You are able to be a great idealist, but you still have the practicality to get things done. In love, you tend to be a big romantic - but you also tend to keep your distance. You have a lot of potential, and it's sometimes hard to live up to. Sometimes you just feel like slipping into obscurity and doing nothing. You tend to be prone to dramatic emotions, until you step back and look at things honestly.

What Is Your Life Path Number?

You Never Give Me Your Money

I know what you're thinking.

You're right. I'm a sell out.

I have an advertiser. We're in a trial relationship for the moment. We'll see how it goes. If s/he doesn't leave the cap off the toothpaste or squeeze it from the middle and I don't annoy her/him by stealing all the covers in the middle of the night, we may take it to the next level. So to speak.

The ad (to the left), is for a new web site called Doing Fine that is supposed to celebrate the positive things in life, to be a place where folks share stories of what is going right in their lives as opposed to just bitching about the negative (as some of us - namely me - are guilty of doing).

It seems like a fine idea. I can get behind that.

So, please take a moment to visit them and check it all out.

And have a happy day.

Stormy Weather

We just had a big storm blow through. I don't typically fear storms, but this one woke me up, and for some reason made me a bit nervous. It was all big, gusty winds, lightning and thunder. It was raining hard, but the wind was so fierce that you couldn't hear the rain over it.

But as I was sitting here, reading other blogs, suddenly I realized I could hear birds singing. And the patter of soft rain. Such a hopeful way to begin a day.

How lovely.

Nature does wonders for the soul.

Falling Slowly

Awards shows don't make me cry. Lots of things make me cry. But not superficial celebrities.

Last night, watching the Oscars, I cried.

The sheer joy and awe at performing his song at the Oscars that shone out of Glen Hansard's face moved me to tears. And the giddy yet shy smile on Marketa Irglova's face while she was playing piano and singing fairly shouted, Can you believe this?! We're really here. Doing this! Wow!, while at the same time it conveyed her obviously sweet and earnest disposition.



The song was amazing. So perfectly said and beautiful. So hopeful. So right. Sung so passionately. And played on that obviously much-loved guitar that Hansard plays. Oh! It just all made me so happy. It was just so right. My joy at their winning Best Song made me clap and do a little dance where I sat. I mean really! I can't imagine better people winning. It's such a redeeming moment for genuine artists, a group of like-minded friends could create a work of art, a movie, and put it out there and have it lead to genuine recognition for their efforts.

As a writer and as the wife of a talented and hard-working musician, the friend of many other working artists in various genres, it gave me great hope that real art created by real, thinking, feeling individuals (as opposed to song-writing hacks hired by studios and labels to throw some words and notes on a page and hand them to some hand-picked pop-tart and mashed together with ProTools and pitch correction software) is still being recognized at that level.

Yay for the little man and woman!

I also loved both of their speeches and I swear...Jon Stewart will now and forever have a special place in my heart for bringing Marketa Irglova back on stage to give her acceptance speech after being cut off by the producers. And I daresay, hers was one of the finest, most inspiring speeches I've ever heard given on an awards broadcast. In fact, I was so moved by it that I want to share it with you in case you did not see it yourself:

Hi everyone. I just want to thank you so much. This is such a big deal, not only for us, but for all other independent musicians and artists that spend most of their time struggling, and this, the fact that we're standing here tonight, the fact that we're able to hold this, it's just to prove no matter how far out your dreams are, it's possible. And, you know, fair play to those who dare to dream and don't give up. And this song was written from a perspective of hope, and hope at the end of the day connects us all, no matter how different we are. And so thank you so much, who helped us along the way. Thank you

Irglova also wins double-Dawn points by using one of my all time favorite Irish expressions, fair play, which basically means congratulations.

And just because his speech was pretty special too, here's what Hansard had to say in his speech:

Thanks! This is amazing. What are we doing here? This is mad. We made this film two years ago. We shot on two Handicams. It took us three weeks to make. We made it for a hundred grand. We never thought we would come into a room like this and be in front of you people. It's been an amazing thing. Thanks for taking this film seriously, all of you. It means a lot to us. Thanks to the Academy, thanks to all the people who've helped us, they know who they are, we don't need to say them. This is amazing. Make art. Make art. Thanks.

e>

Of course, it's all just made better for me by the fact that Hansard is Irish, Once was shot in Dublin, and I'm a sucker for Irishmen.

I feel like I've just awoken or broken free of a fog that was shrouding everything I've done for the last 36 hours or so. After getting very little sleep on Valentine's night, I had another rough day and night of it all yesterday. Thankfully, school was out so I didn't have to rush to be anywhere and was able to sleep until 7:30 when Beckett was up for good. I also had the blood drive yesterday, which went well. When I was there from noon until 2 p.m. we had already collected 20 pints and that wasn't counting the five or so of us who were there at the same time. Not too shabby.

It was kind of a zoo with kids all over the waiting room. The Red Cross provided a cake as well as the normal Nutter Butters (my favorite thing about giving blood!) and Cheese Nips, and there were actually people who had just come to donate who ended up doing it in Claire's honor.

By the time I got home, I was exhausted. I've never reacted well to giving blood. I usually bruise severely, as in from the elbow to the shoulder. This time, I barely bruised at all, but it took over 30 minutes for them to drain me and they had to keep readjusting the needle. My arm hurts from the elbow to my fingertips, especially when I clinch my fingers for any reason. I was also exhausted. I felt as if I could just fall asleep standing up last night. So, naturally neither boy slept well although Scott helped me go to bed early. The boys or at least one of them was up at 1 a.m.; at 3:00 or so I had to get Beckett a bottle. Then, Brendan ended up in our bed and at 4:00 a.m. started whining because he was congested. I moved him to his bed and tried to sleep with him, but he woke up whining again at 5:30 and stayed up. I tried sleeping in the recliner in the living room, but he kept talking to me, so finally I left him there watching Banana Splits or whatever other nonsense is on at that time of the morning and went back to bed until 6:30 when Beckett started crying. I tried to ignore him, hoping he'd find his way back to sleep, but Brendan showed up at my bedside to tell me his brother was crying and that I needed to get him up. Finally, I caved in and cried while I was changing Beckett's diaper because I haven't felt this tired since Beckett was born and I had yelled at Brendan to leave me alone and I hate the way being exhausted changes my personality and makes me mean.

Thankfully, Beckett went down for a nap around 10 a.m. and while Brendan watched a video and played trains, I got an 1 1/2 nap while Scott ran interference for me. Then, later both boys took afternoon naps and I had a luxurious soak in a hot bath using all the delightful Aveda products Scott lavished me with for Valentine's Day.

I felt like a new woman. Now, both boys are asleep; Scott and I are watching the NBA Skills competition; I'm cozy in my new jammies; and hopefully tomorrow will be a new day.

Blood and Chocolate

I feel like I could sleep for a week. Maybe two.

I didn't go to bed until after 1 a.m. Beckett was up from 3:00 until 4:00. Then, I remember being up from 4:45 or so until almost 6, but I don't remember why. Brendan? Beckett? Our dog who frequently needs to go out in the middle of the night?

Am I losing my mind?

Anyway, today was our blood drive in honor of our friend's baby. I was at the donation center for over two hours waiting, watching other donors' kids, and donating. My blood flows slowly for some reason (I wonder if this would keep me from bleeding out in the event of an emergency?), so it always takes me twice as long as anyone else to give a pint of juicy red goodness.

We got home and with both boys either napping or playing quietly I slept for 40 min. The only reason I awoke then was Beckett's crying to be rescued from his crib.

If I sat still for 3 minutes and closed my eyes, I'd be asleep. It's so tempting.

I have also been starving ever since donating. No appetite at all beforehand, but now I could eat a big chunk of red meat. And chocolate. Thankfully, we have a new Greek restaurant that delivers so we'll be having takeout Gyros for supper. And then there are the truffles Scott brought us for Valentine's Day. Yum. Not the healthiest, but oh so easy. And it should quell my hankering for red meat.

Hopefully both boys go down easily and we can relax and watch the episode of Lost we missed last night and go to sleep early. Oh to dream.

Boys

Wow.

My friend Suzanne just sent me this and it makes me feel bad. I love, love, love my boys. And by having sons, it has opened up an entire world to me that I wouldn't know had I only had daughters. But I've never quite been able to shed the sense of loss or failure that I feel over not having a girl. I never even realized I wanted a girl until I didn't have one. I feel guilty, of course, for saying these things. That somehow by admitting it, that it lessens the love I feel for my boys. I've always thought that God must feel I didn't deserve a girl, that somehow I'd just fuck her up the way my mom did to me. Stupid, huh?

Anyway, Suzanne sent me the article below. I'll try to find and post a link to the actual story later.

from the UK Telegraph

Boys 'lead to more post-natal depression'


By Rebecca Smith, Medical Editor
Last Updated: 5:58pm GMT 13/02/2008

Women who give birth to boys are more likely to suffer post-natal depression than those having daughters, a study has found.



Having a son is 'more likely to reduce quality of life'
Research carried out in France found three quarters of women who were diagnosed with severe post-natal depression had sons.

Even if the mother had not been diagnosed as depressed, having a son was significantly more likely to reduce their quality of life compared to mothers of girls, according to the research which was published in the Journal of Clinical Nursing.

A team of researchers led by Professor Claude de Tychey, from Université Nancy, France, studied 181 women from a community where there were no cultural pressures about the sex of children.

All the women were aged 19 to 40, with 52 per cent of the total giving birth to boys and 48 per cent giving birth to girls.


A third had signs of post natal depression when interviewed one to two months after the birth and nine per cent had severe symptoms.

Prof de Tychey said: “When we launched our research, our main aim was to study the effect that gender has on PND.

But the overwhelming finding of the study was the fact that gender appears to play a significant role in reduced quality of life as well as an increased chance of severe PND.”

They also found women who had given birth to a boy reported lower quality of life scores in 70 per cent of cases compared with women who had delivered a girl, regardless of whether they suffered from post-natal depression. In women who did not have depression, mothers of sons had lower quality of life scores in nine out of the 10 categories.

“These figures show very clearly that having a boy resulted in lower quality of life scores in all cases” says Professor de Tychey.

“We also discovered that being a first-time mother had no effect on quality of life scores.

Women had the same general scores regardless of whether the recent birth was their first or second baby.” The study also found that women who had a daughter as their first child were more likely to have a second baby than those who had a boy first.

Prof Tychey said: “Previous studies have shown that women who live in cultures where greater value is placed on sons are more likely to suffer from PND if they give birth to a girl.

“However, we believe that this study – carried out in a French community where women didn’t face cultural pressures over the sex of their baby – is the first to show that women who give birth to boys are more likely to suffer from severe PND and reduced quality of life. Further research is needed to find out why this happens.”

I am Superman

Brendan has been coming up with so many cute and funny things lately that it has been hard to keep them all in mind when I want to share them.

First, he has a really funny thing he says and I've started saying it around here at home because I think it's really hilarious. Sometimes I'll ask him to help me out by taking something to his room or to hand something to his brother. If he already has his hands full, he'll say, I'm sorry, Mommy. I can't...I'm full of hands.

On Martin Luther King, Jr.'s birthday, he came home from pre-K and announced that it was King Martin's birthday, leaving me with an image of a smiling MLK wearing a crown and blowing a party horn. He learned a lot about MLK between his actual birthday and the day we honor him. His class saw two films about him and went to a special assembly. When school was out on MLK Day, I made French toast for breakfast. Realizing I had no powdered sugar to go on the French toast, I put green sugar sprinkles on it instead. Brendan was excited and I told him it was a special treat for MLK day. A few minutes later, Brendan is screaming for me. When I came back to the kitchen, he tells me, Mommy, Beckett's eating my Martin Luther King French toast! This time the image that came to mind was a piece of French toast with MLK's image on it, like the Mary toast.

His most recent act of interest has been to come up with his own superhero identity, complete with an archnemesis.

As we were driving a few days ago, he told me that he is really Glue Guy. His superpower is glue. He can shoot glue from his fingertips to stop bad guys and he can use his sticky fingertips to climb. He acquired his superpowers in class one day when he accidentally spilled some magic glue that he had found in a cabinet on himself while doing an art project. It turned him into Glue Guy.

His archenemy is Gorilla Guy. Less than 3 feet tall, Gorilla Guy, aka Beckett, stalks and chases Glue Guy, stealing his things and smearing the remnants of his favorite food – bananas! – all over Glue Guy's stuff.

I must say, I was duly impressed with my proto-geek's imagination. His love of all things super and his imagination just make me think there's a career awaiting him in the world of comics. And that would be just fine.