Waiting for, well, Superman to save us from impending doom will probably be futile at best. We are, after all, our own worst enemies. Yesterday, wife and I had a talk about scales and what their importance is to daily life. We eat what we want and then are aghast when we discover the outcome. All scales should be thrown in the drink and we should measure people on a new system based on my opinion. Now, some of you might fall toward the other side of happy when you learn my rating for you. In the end, though, everything will be clearer and a new set of norms shall be established.
This weekend wife and daughter leave me with son. Son is three so he can be “challenging” at times. This does not suggest that the other two simply ride off into the sunset; they can play the game very well. The son has taken a liking to the almost-new Disney movie, Tangled. I guess it’s okay for a boy to be enamored with a beautiful princess with long blond hair. My favorite part does not even relate to the plot of the film. I just like to hear my son ask me, “Can we watch Carunzel?” I think we’ve seen it twice this week, so perhaps it might get lost behind the TV cabinet for a while.
This morning I told daughter she is super and can do anything she wants. She wants to dance and I hope she does well at this weekend’s competition. She has to perform at 9:45PM Saturday night, though. Her typical bedtime is 8PM. Yes, I said 8. Both kids are asleep on an average day before 8:30PM leaving enough time to actually converse intelligently with wife. Our new taboo is The Big Bang Theory. If I weighed less and actually applied my intelligence properly, I would be a role model for the show. Who else had every episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation on VHS? Also, who else dressed son as Jean-Luc Picard for Halloween. Not some cheap costume, but the real knit version with communicator and pins indicating rank (four gold).
So when I say I am waiting for superman, I am really waiting for son and daughter to demonstrate to the world their God-given talents and make a difference. I don’t know who will take credit. I think my Mother-in-Law has somehow worked her way into the credits (joke – maybe). Sometimes I get called super, too. I’d settle for mediocrity if it meant we could go off-grid and live on an island in the South Pacific. Mollydog could run the gennie on a hamster wheel so I could watch TV. Yes, I am a contradiction. Live with it.
ke up and sent them both to school. So, I think when we are alone, it may be boring but livable; when we feel alone, it is miserable.