Super Heroes

My youngest son has Super Powers.

I am not completely surprised, actually.  I have long suspected that Eli was a super hero with powers I didn’t quite understand, but I was never really sure.  He has, from time-to-time, displayed actions and behavior that I couldn’t quite explain.  You know what I mean.  I am sure you have had those moments with your own kids.  Those “Did You Really Just Do That?” moments.  When I asked him about it, they would just look at me.  I figured that was mainly because he is only two and couldn’t really talk that well.  Until our recent vacation, I really didn’t put it all together. 

I am the father of Barf Boy.   

Apparently Eli thought we were ready and that it was time we knew about his powers and true identity. Eli revealed himself while we were on vacation.  I don’t mean that he actually “revealed” himself.  Well, actually he did kind of flash people from our balcony, but that is another blog . . . and perhaps another super power. 

Barf Boy’s main super power is the ability to vomit on command at any time.  Like I said, I have long suspected that his throwing up was a super power.  We long ago eliminated any medical reason for this.  He is healthy, he can just vomit any time he wants to.  He only uses his super power in certain situations.  Usually the situation involves him not getting exactly what he wants when he wants it.  He has to physically invoke the “Power of the Barf”.  He does this by crying.  Then he coughs a few times, inhales sharply and then lets fly.

We saw several examples of his super power while on vacation.  He saw fit to invoke his powers when there was a toy, gadget or goody that he wanted but didn’t get.  It would go something like this:

Eli:  E wants pirate sword

Me:  Not today buddy.  You already have that sword at home


Me:  No

Eli:  (Cry, cough twice, inhale)

Me:  Eli, you ok?

Loudspeaker:  Wet clean up on pirate sword aisle!

His powers can also reveal themselves when he feels threatened.  I guess it’s kind of like a squid using ink.  We were in line at Universal Studios to get on a ride when Clash Woman, an evil super hero whose power comes from her costume of teal shorts and “matching” argyle sweater and tee shirt, quickly and unexpectedly approached Mommy while she was holding Eli.

“You are a chunk!” she said to Eli as she poked his tummy.

Eli retreated into Mommy’s arms and frowned at that lady while shooting her a telepathic message: “Mind your own business, don’t poke my tummy and buy a mirror.  Too much teal!”   This is a rough translation because it was telepathic.

“Can you say hi to the  . . . . uh . . . . nice . . . lady?” my wife coaxed Eli as she moved her own body between Clash Woman and Barf Boy. 

I shouldn’t be surprised that Eli has super powers.  My wife has displayed super powers for years.  She doesn’t think she is a super hero but she is.  She is “Mommy” and she and has some pretty impressive powers.  Moving Eli away is her first defense against unsolicited tummy pokes of her babies  by women wearing colors that don’t occur in nature.  (Stop, I know what you are thinking.  This was not a natural teal shade.) 

My wife’s next line of defense for unwanted baby touching is a super power called the Death Glare.  It really doesn’t need any description.   If a baby toucher gets through Death Glare my wife is forced to invoke her super power of Throat Punch.  I am sure all of you are familiar.  In my wife’s case she invokes it by cocking her hip and doing this little sideways thing with her Jaw. 

“I had a chunky baby, just like this one,” Clash woman said.  She tried to pinch his cheek.  Eli started crying and my wife Death Glared.  I tried to step in, this was getting serious.

Clash Woman was completely oblivious to her impending doom and cleaning bills.  “I carried a fat baby around on my hip and I now I have bursitis.”  She emphasized “bursitis” by poking Eli in the tummy with each syllable of the word. 

Eli coughed twice.  He was loaded all it would take was a quick inhale.

My wife cocked her hip and did the sideways thing with the jaw while maintaining the Death Glare. 

I had to do something.  “Ma’am,” I said while trying not to look directly at her costume.  “Look, your group has moved down the line.”  I tried to move her along. 

Clash Woman glanced behind her.  “Bye Chunky!” she said to Eli and moved to catch up to her daughter, Dark Roots Girl.  That was close.

I almost ran afoul of their powers myself earlier in the vacation.  While at Gatorland in Orlando, my brother and I decided to take Charlie zip lining.  If you aren’t familiar a zip line is a cable that is strung between two elevated points.  People then pay to strap themselves to it and slide between the two points. 

Barf Boy unleashed his powers after finding out he wouldn’t get to go on the zip line.  He wasn’t in the mood to hear lame excuses like they don’t have a harness in your size.  Cry, cough, inhale, wet clean up.

I witnessed my wife’s powers after the zip lining adventure.  Apparently I didn’t explain to her that some, if not all, of the five zip lines on the course are over anywhere from 80 to 100 adult alligators. 

I attempted to establish myself as Logic Man with my super powers of rationalization and minimalization.  She wasn’t at impressed with my two pronged argument.

1.  The place is called Gatorland . . . how could you have a zip line without going over alligators?

Death Stare . . .

2.  The lines are like 65 feet in the air . . . it really doesn’t matter if an alligator is under you if you fall.

Hip cock . . . sideways jaw thing.

Apparently it is acceptable to her if I dangle my self in a harness that makes me look like an overstuffed deli sausage over 100 alligators.  Involving Charlie brought on the wrath of Mommy.  Charlie saved me by explaining that it was “awesome” and he had a great time.  That helped.

We are learning to live with our little super hero.  We have had our successes and failures.  We dealt with his powers on final approach to Seattle on our way back. Barf Boy hated being confined by evil seatbelts. He complained loudly then coughed twice, inhaled vomitted.  My wife countered with her abilities.  Apparently she has the ability to hold approximately a gallon of baby vomit in her cupped hands.  OK, maybe it was about a pint.  Anyway she deposited it in an air sick bag then shucked, cleaned and dressed Barf Boy while in final without unbuckling his seat belt.  Gotta love super powers.

Thanks for reading and sorry for the long lay off.  We will be back soon on This Side of the Diaper.










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