Days of September

Ah, what a flashback.

My son, Alex, was playing outside just now with his Spiderman action figure, complete with Nifty Web Action and Free-Movement Joints. He was making Spiderman fly from web to web in the manner of young kids everywhere: he was using his imagination. More specifically, he was tossing the figure in the air and filling in the rest of the details (the rush of wind, the web shooting from the wrist) in the second or two before gravity took over, bearing the piece of plastic to the ground. Then…..”Daddy!”

Spiderman is stuck in the tree. Pretty high, too. Completely out of reach for me. Of course, I immediately resorted to the first plan of action necessary in these cases. I threw something else at it. (Remember doing this as a kid? I sure do.)

I instructed Alex to go get a ball to throw at it. He returned with his (Spiderman) shoe. The left one, I think. Where in the mind of a four-year old is “ball” equated with “shoe” I don’t know, but it would do as a projectile. After several tries, however, it became apparent that Spiderman’s web was caught on a branch, and he wasn’t going to be knocked out of the tree.

Plan B involves a kitchen chair and a plastic light saber. The chair is positioned under the tree. With a flourish, Dad extends the light saber and climbs onto the chair. The four-year old audience holds his breath. And after a few tense moments, Dad becomes a hero. Spiderman is free.

I carefully instruct Alex not to throw him back into the tree. He nods carefully, and says, “Ok, Dad.” (You all remember the Bill Cosby skit, don’t you? You all see exactly what’s coming, right?)

Fast forward ten minutes. I’m cleaning the kitchen and realize it’s too quiet. (Parents understand this. Too much noise is bad. Too little is worse. It becomes an instinct to know.) I go outside to check on my darling son….

Spiderman is in the tree. So is the left shoe. And the right one is getting ready to follow it.