Sometimes I Write Stuff Down So I Remember It When The Superheroes Move Out

I squeezed him hard, with all my mom muscles. I tried to will him to be small in my arms for longer. Not forever maybe, just for…as long as I feel like it.

Four is a fun year.

“MOM! You gave me a HULK SQUEEZE!” he was delighted.

“Yes,” I said grasping the moment, “because that’s how much I love you.”

“Well,” he countered, “I love you more than Hulk. I love you SUPERMAN!”

He flopped down onto the bed with Thomas the Train sheets, proud of himself for outwitting me.
He loves superheroes. He is not allowed to watch them because he confuses little brothers with bad guys, but he begs me to tell him the stories. So I do. Sort of. He doesn’t like the parts about bad guys so we skip them.

I don’t want to forget this age. We’re teetering on the cusp of something new and different. I feel like the Thomas sheets are on their last legs, and I wanted to cry when he peeled off his monkey decal that guards over his bed. He doesn’t like it anymore. The words by the monkey are starting to become a depressing prophecy, “No more monkeys jumping on the bed”.

It’s not so much monkeys anymore. It’s more like Iron Man and Thor. Soon the Superheroes will go the way of the Monkeys and what will be left? Girls? ACK!

I try not to go there. I try to live in the moment with these boys. I try to look to the future with a smile and a tear, but mostly a smile.

“OUCH!” he cries from the backseat.

“Huh?” I ask absentmindedly. I was composing a poem about haystacks in my head, because that’s what I do in minivans.

“Oh….nothing. I just have a growing pain. But, I’m not going to fuss about it because when I grow up I’m going to be SUPERMAN!” he announces seriously.

I don’t laugh. I say, “Good. That sounds good!”

“When I go up, I’m gonna be BATMAN!” pipes in the three year old.

And that’s where we’re at. Raising superheroes, destroying monkeys, growing pains for everyone. I’ll try not to fuss about it.

And just for fun, this is a very short video of someone trying to gun down the goose.

15 thoughts on “Sometimes I Write Stuff Down So I Remember It When The Superheroes Move Out

  1. I'm sitting in the Target parking lot waiting for my eyes to stop misting. I love hearing about those boys, your love for them shines bright.
    Time has to slow down. It just has too!

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  2. When Cade turned 4, the angels sang: I swear it. And they sang until well past the double digits. We hit a rough patch in the 11's, but the angels sang again when he turned 12. Seriously, my son is AMAZING. I could eat him up! He got off the bus, one day this week, took one look at me, and asked if I'd like him to watch his sisters for awhile so I could lie down. You're going to love every second of that Q for a very long time.

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  3. i love your writing, and hearing about boys growing up – i have a 2 1/2 year old and one on the way so you're reminding me to eat up these days, remember them! and my favorite part was when you were composing a poem in your minivan 🙂

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  4. four is a beautiful age. and i suspect you will think the same of five and nine and sixteen because you? have beautiful boys. and they will be ripe with the beauty stuff, from here on out till forever.

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  5. Write it down and save if up! I just went through high school graduation with my son and have to admit I can't for the life of me figure out how that happened!

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  6. Oh how I love the fact that he's a superhero who doesn't “like the parts about the bad guys.”

    My son was just like that. He'd leave the room during any sad or mean or upsetting parts of stories or television shows or movies…

    After a minute or so, he'd poke his head around the corner: “Is it happy again?”

    Yes. It's happy. Always.

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  7. Similar conversations have been cropping up over here, too. Eight year old, soon-to-be-nine, announced just this morning that if he wore his Mickey Mouse sweatshirt everyone would laugh at him and say “You still like Mickey Mouse!”. Sigh… But we do. We do like the Mouse. A lot. Hulk squeeze as much as you want. It's our right!

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  8. a poem about haystacks, because that's what you do in mini-vans… i love this. and i love that your kids want to be superheroes. and i try not to think about them growing up too 😦 aiden is always saying, “i do it,” now… and i remember when i complained that he wanted to be helped too much, just six months ago. if only i could tell the past-emily to be quiet.

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