Yesterday we were on our way back home from a weekend trip in the mountains. I was groggy from so much fresh air and my 11 year old was not. He began peppering me with questions I was very slow to answer. And yet, he persisted. Finally he landed on the topic of Superman. We watched the movie “Man of Steel” and both found it entertaining while quite ridiculous in certain plot moves. We enjoyed criticizing the whole way through. And then he busts out this question:
Why is he called Superman? Why not Strongman because weren’t most of his gifts based on being strong?
I thought about it, tossed in “x-ray vision” for his consideration.
“Well, OK,” he conceded. “Not so much strength there.”
“But Superman…I know it should sound good,” he continued, “Strongman doesn’t sound that good. How about Superbman?”
“Ooh, that’s a great one!”
“Or Simpleman? Spectacularman?”
Then in his best hero voice, “Or Smileman. Hello there!”
I was amused and charmed by his ideas. I love his humor. His inventiveness.
This morning he padded into our room and I asked about his night.
“I’m Slumberman,” he yawned.