Super Mom

I just watched Iron Man (although I'm not such a huge fan of comic-book movies, I've always had a little thing for Robert Downey Jr.). It was thoroughly enjoyable, and inspired me to think of what superpowers I long to have. For example, I could be Chef Woman, able to snap my fingers and conjure (nutritionally balanced yet delicious) meals out of thin air. Or Hyperspeed Girl, who zips around town, completing errands in a mere fraction of the usual time (appearing only as a shiny flash of light, but of course obeying all local traffic laws). Many days, I'd prefer to be Mega Mediator Mom, who has the ability to stop any argument by freezing the opponents with an icy glare, and sweeping them to opposite sides of the room with a slight wave of her hand. This morning, however, my 5-year old son provided a solid reminder that sometimes wishes are best kept simple. In the process of getting dressed, he stood in just his little white briefs, chin in the air, chest outthrust, hands on hips, legs spread wide. With an enormous grin, he declared, "I'm Naked Man! With the power of...underwear! (You go save the world, little dude!)