Calling All Superheros

We have a small obsession with superheros in our home, and it seems to have transferred to our offspring.

Tom, while proficient with more than 50 baby signs, isn't really speaking yet. He tries, except that most everything comes out sounding like "daptzzzz," with a long, spitlicious raspberry at the end.

Everything, that is, except for the names of superheros. We don't let him watch any superhero DVDs - they are pretty violent, even though they are cartoons. But boy, does he love to look at the pictures on the DVD cases. "Man!" he will shout, pointing frantically to high shelves where we keep the audio/visual supplies.

What he wants, of course, is this:
After he flips through the cases a few times, he usually loses interest and heads over to the nearest phone to make a call.

"Highs!" he says, waving away. "Batzz! (Spits forcefully all over the mouthpiece.) Mannn!" He continues having the same conversation over and over for about five minutes. The caped crusader must have the patience of a saint. Either that or my son has an in with the leaders of the Gotham underworld, and Bats is getting some good information.

His other favorite superhero is this guy:

For those of you who are not giant nerds, this is a superhero called The Flash. His superpower is that he can um ... run really fast. I know, creative.

Well, Tom LOVES The Flash. Tom has a bowl with a picture of the flash on the rim, and he'll carry it around saying "Fash, fash" and running around in a circle. He thinks it's great. I have no idea how he knows what The Flash's superpower is, since he's never seen a show featuring The Flash, nor is our precocious son reading comic books - yet.

I think it's hilarious, although it has SuperHubby a bit worried.

I say he's just getting a head start on his career. He's already training as Indestructible Boy. This child can run his head into the side of toilet, fall down a flight of stairs, and keep trooping like nothing even happened. Seriously folks, he once gave himself a black eye while removing a shoe, and didn't even cry. Hot cheese spilled on your hand, leaving a first degree burn? Brush it off! There are more important things to destroy do than worry over a little scalding.

And really, what career has better bragging rights for mom?

"Oh, your son's a pediatric cardiologist? That's nice. My son saved the entire world from an alien invasion last week."

What more could I want?