Faster Than a Speeding Bullet
There are many things — life lessons, you may say — that I want to educate my son about. These range from being gracious and polite to understanding and appreciating ethics.
There are others, of course. I already talked about the sports teams that he will (or won’t) root for, and that’s just the beginning. Others include the music he’ll enjoy (Spice Girls, yes; Pussycat Dolls, no), foods that he’ll eat (sushi, yes; Chicago deep dish pizza, no), and clothes that he’ll wear (parachute pants, yes; acid washed jeans, no). But, really, those are merely superficial. The most important lesson I will teach him is which super heroes he’ll like the best.
On the day Henry was born, as I held him in my arms, I lovingly whispered into his ears the origins of great heroes like the Atom (Ray Palmer, professor at Ivy University, discovered the ability to harness the white dwarf star, thus enabling him to shrink), Daredevil (Matt Murdock, blinded by a stray radioactive canister that struck his face, has all of his other senses heightened), the Flash (Barry Allen, police scientist, is doused by chemicals in his lab when a bolt of lightning strikes them, giving him the power of super speed), and Captain America (Steve Rogers, classified 4-F, is injected with a super soldier serum giving him the strength of 10 men).
As soon as he’s old enough, I’ll start reading him these stories. Important stories that will surely mold him and drive him to become a good person, a solid citizen, and, hopefully, super hero in his own right.
What’s that, you ask? A super hero? Oh, yes. And I have a plan.
(Note: Many of you already know this story, as this is something that I’ve been thinking about for years. If so, read no further. But if you want to get in on the ground floor of what will be the greatest crime fighter in the history of our planet, continue on.)
First off, I want to ensure everyone that if Henry is not a willing participant in this, if he wants to live a non-heroic life, he can do so, and I will still love him. (Of course, I will love him with crime running rampant, but that’s another story.)
Second, this may require our family to move to the country, where barns are plentiful.
Third, I will likely need the help of people who are experts in the following: jujistu, marathon running, cross-training, boxing, nutrition, fashion (he’ll need a costume, right?), physics, explosives, and NASCAR driving. So anyone with those talents, drop me a line.
And fourth, I’ll need a lot of money (we will take donations, but remember, it’s for the good of the country).
This is how it’s going to happen. Right around the time that Henry turns 15, we’re going to ditch this city livin’ and move out to the land of wheat fields and rampant racism. That’s right, the country. There will be a barn, as well, and as soon as Henry is able to lift it, we will purchase a calf. I’m thinking a Belted Galloway. (At birth, a cow weighs around 60 pounds.)
Each day, Henry will lift the calf. Several times, in fact. He’ll carry it around, strap it to his back, leg lift it, whatever. And day after day, as the calf grows, Henry’s strength will also grow.
In a couple of years, the cow will likely weigh around 800 pounds, a couple of years later, it’ll hit its maximum of around half a ton.
Now you’re saying to yourself, “How can a 17-year-old kid lift 800 pounds?” Ah… that the thing. You see, it won’t be like he’s lifting 800 pounds; he’ll just be lifting a half a pound or so more than he had the day before.
It’s a living creature, and as it grows–slowly, steadilly, organically–Henry’s strength will also grow. You see how this works?
Along with the cow, we’ll need the nutritionist to make sure he’s getting all his vitamins, the ju-jitsu master to make sure he can beat people up, the driving instructor, the boxing coach, etc. It takes a village, people, to grow this super hero!
I figure this whole process will take about 7 years. Eventually, he’ll stop lifting the cows and move onto weights (or large sea mammals, whichever he prefers), and then he’ll start dressing up in tights and a cape and fighting bad guys.
All this time, I’ll be his guide, his mentor. I’ll be there to pick him up when he’s down. I’ll be walking behind him cleaning up the cow patties. I’ll be there in the tricked-out cargo van monitoring the police band, telling him where there’s a stick-up. Because those life lessons, those super heroes, will still be with us, and he’ll need me to remind him sometimes what Batman would do.
Henry, what would he do?
(Please note: Kristen, as of today, has yet to sign off on this plan. If you feel like I’m on the right path, that the country… no, the world needs a hero, talk to her. Convince her that this is the right plan. The planet will thank you for it.)
