Ironman

In our house it is a toss up who I see more, Nathan or Ironman. I think Ironman is ferocious and strong and mighty, as I tell him many times a day, but I still obviously don't play the Ironman game right. Here is a sample of a daily conversation with my son's alter ego.

(Nathan, walking out in his well worn Ironman costume.)

Me: "Whoa, Nathan, looking good!"

"NO. I am not Nathan, I am Ironman."

"Oh, right, sorry. Ironman, you look so tough today!"

"MOM, pretend you don't know who I am! Pretend to say, 'Who are you?' "

"WHO IS THIS IN MY KITCHEN?? ARE YOU IRONMAN?!?" (Said with great feeling and super hero worthy emotion.)

"MOOOOOOOMMMMMM, pretend you don't know who I am!"

"Who are you?"

"I am IRONMAN."

"Ironman, you are awesome, I'm so glad to meet you."

"NO, that's not right. You don't know if I'm a good guy or a bad guy. Say, 'Are you a good guy or a bad guy?' "

Sigh. "Are you a good guy or a bad guy?"

"A good guys. Mommy, pretend you don't know what's on my hands. Say it. Say, "What's on your hands?' "

"Ironman, what's on your hands? They look so powerful."

"You don't know if they are powerful. Mom, you don't these things. You aren't a super hero. Say,'What's on your hands?"

"Whoa, what's on your hands?"

"REPULSOR RAYS!!"

"Repulsor rays, they must be very powerful!"

"NO!! Ask me what they do, ask me like this, say, "Ironman, are they powerful?"

"Ironman, what do you do with your repulsor rays?" (Said with less feeling.)

"BLAST WHIPLASH!! Mommy, pretend you don't know who Whiplash is. Pretend you are afraid of him. Say it like this, say, "WHO IS WHIPLASH!?"

"WHO IS WHIPLASH?!"

"NNOOOOO, not like that, like this, "WHO IS WHIPLASH?!?!"

"Ironman,can you please tell mw who Whiplash is."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, pretend to say, pretend to say.................."



Are you tired of this conversation yet? Frankly, so am I. But don't tell Ironman, he might blast me with his repulsor rays.

You da man

Tonight we hosted a pajama party for eight (yes, eight) little girls. Aubrey got this notion in her head around Christmas and it has taken this long to come to fruition. There was dinner, cookie decorating, a movie, duck duck goose, and plenty of improvised fun. It was great, in a crazy, chaotic, shrieking little girl kind of way.

Some friends of mine said they thought I was a good mom as they picked up their girls. You know, because we had a for-the-heck-of-it party and still looked kind of sane at the end of it. But guys, here is the truth of it. I'm not always a good mom and when I am there is a secret behind the goodness. Greg.

I would NEVER have done this party if Greg hadn't been here. No way, no how. He watched the kids while I made dinner. He held a baby while I piled up plates. He pierced juice boxes, spread frosting, and laughed at a HILARIOUS batch of knock knock jokes. When a couple girls were overwhelmed (rightly so) one of us stayed up and got coloring for them while the other supervised the crazy crew. One of us swept while the other popped popcorn. You get the idea. This was not a one man job and it was fun for everyone, including us, because I had Greg doing the whole thing with me. When I told him this at the end of the night, as he was vacuuming up popcorn, he said simply, "We're a team."

So, the cat is out of the bag. If I ever dare to be a good mom it is only because Greg is an exceptional dad. Now you know.