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Monday, February 2, 2009

Super Powers

Every time the kids go see a movie where some grown man is pulling on a mask and a pair of stretch pants to head out to the streets for an evening of crime fighting, they come home discussing how great it would be to have super powers. I’ve been on the pulling side of stretch pants many times in my life and I can tell you right now that if you can get the deceitful things on without blowing out a seam or rupturing a kidney, you already have superpowers. If you can do it without ruining a new manicure, you can be leader of the team.

The last time I tried to put on a pair of stretch jeans, I lost two press-on nails, a layer of fake tan, and three pounds in sweat currency. When I stood up, I realized I hadn’t put on my shoes. Basic science and a hearty dose of common sense told me that if I bent over, the ensuing explosion would result in a pair of shredded pants hanging from an elastic waistband. Don’t tell me I don’t know how the Hulk feels. I went barefoot that day.

I do have a certain reverence for Superman, though. Anybody who can change into blue tights and a red Speedo in 2.5 seconds in a telephone booth possesses some natural skills. However due to changes in technology, there are precious few telephone booths in existence, and I just can’t see the whole scenario having the same effect if Superman dashed into a Sprint kiosk at the mall. Superman is apt to emerge from the booth with six rows of sparkly phone bling, a Velcro carrying case with snap-tight closure, and a weekend of free anytime minutes.

Dressing myself is a remarkable talent, but not my only claim to extraneous powers. I can tell by the ring of my cell phone if Son Number 1 had an unfortunate encounter with the steamer at work, Son 2 needs money for gas, or the cat just produced a bouncing baby hairball in an undisclosed but widely traveled location in my newly carpeted hallway. My Mom-sense gives me a jolt when, somewhere in my living room, a child is feeding toxic-gas-producing hot dogs to the Dachshund. And I feel an overwhelming disturbance in the Force when anyone related to me by blood, marriage, or pet adoption dries their sneakers in the toaster.

All in all, I find that movie-type superpowers are over-rated. I never saw a single member of the Fantasic Four who could remove a jelly glass from the flushomatic on the first try. For that, you need a lot more than a cape and coloredy support hose.

You need a Mom with the plumber on speed dial.

2 comments:

gypsyscarlett said...

My mom's super power was, "The Look". The look that could not only stop a speeding bullet, but her children from doing whatever they were even *contemplating* doing.

colbymarshall said...

I'm interested in the super power of waving my arm and my house being clean, dusted, and vacuumed.