Do you have a secret identity? Do you ever worry that it will be discovered/uncovered? Here’s a tip: don’t stop at ONE secret identity . Get 12. That way, if people unmask you once, you’ve still got more secret identities to fall back on. Here are some that are already taken:
Red Sting-y Man
Zoom (he’s very fast!)
Mister of the Earth (no, not Master of the Earth. Mister of the Earth. He throws the earth at bad guys)
Fire Man
Water Man
Purple Arrow
Marshmellow Man (he throws marshmellows at bad guys, which may not sound bad, but they are marshmellows that are STILL ON FIRE)
and that all-American superhero, Mustard Man.
With the power of Magnificent Mustard and Ketchup Man at his side, Mustard Man seeks to free the world from the evil Robot Hot Dog.
Seriously, folks. We could not make this stuff up.
Thursday, September 12, 2013
The Queen of Sunday School
Ryan and I volunteered to run a new Sunday School program at our church for kids in grades 4-6. We figured that not only do we provide the population base for this group ourselves, but our twins are too old to be coloring pictures of Jesus and gluing fish to them. Time for some serious Bible study. (Gulp.)
There will be more stories about this venture, certainly, but this is the first one: Picture four kids in a room with three adults. A blond boy with long skinny, scabby legs sits on the sofa with his arm spring-loaded to answer every question (yes, that’s Collin), another boy sits beside him, quiet, respectful, with a glint of mischief in his eye. A lovely, shy girl sits on the other side of the sectional sofa, her blue eyes watchful. And in a seat at the table with the teacher (who forgot to say that this was not an acceptable place to sit) lounges Annie Hall in all her menswear-sporting glory, slouched down, one foot cocked up on her opposite knee.
We do introductions, soft voices abounding, murmurs of, “My name is --- and my hobby is, umm, ----.”
Then it’s her turn (she makes sure she goes last, to pull off the big finish.)
“My name Lilah, but you can call me Awesome Sauce. My hobby is not eating breakfast. But when I do eat breakfast, I eat—(she waits a beat, because comedy is all about the timing) Awesome Sauce.”
There will be more stories about this venture, certainly, but this is the first one: Picture four kids in a room with three adults. A blond boy with long skinny, scabby legs sits on the sofa with his arm spring-loaded to answer every question (yes, that’s Collin), another boy sits beside him, quiet, respectful, with a glint of mischief in his eye. A lovely, shy girl sits on the other side of the sectional sofa, her blue eyes watchful. And in a seat at the table with the teacher (who forgot to say that this was not an acceptable place to sit) lounges Annie Hall in all her menswear-sporting glory, slouched down, one foot cocked up on her opposite knee.
We do introductions, soft voices abounding, murmurs of, “My name is --- and my hobby is, umm, ----.”
Then it’s her turn (she makes sure she goes last, to pull off the big finish.)
“My name Lilah, but you can call me Awesome Sauce. My hobby is not eating breakfast. But when I do eat breakfast, I eat—(she waits a beat, because comedy is all about the timing) Awesome Sauce.”
Hufflepuff?
Hufflepuff?
So Collin, lover of football, Percy Jackson, and Harry Potter, is convinced he is destined for Gryffindor House at Hogwarts. He even proudly wears a shirt proclaiming as much these days. But sometimes I wonder . . .
For his birthday, Collin was given the option of a party with local friends or a trip to D.C. with mom and some special things with one friend whom he doesn’t get to see very often. He opted for D.C. and the plan was dinner out, a sleepover (in our hotel room!), then breakfast (pancakes! Bacon!) and a trip to a Lego store together.
When we learned that his friend Parker has a soccer game on Saturday morning, I explained to Collin that we could still do most things, but we’d likely have to end with breakfast (and do a lower-key breakfast than planned, so Parker didn’t pass out from sugar shock ON the soccer field). He thought about this for a minute.
“So he couldn’t go to the Lego store with me?”
“Well, we could go, but not with Parker, probably. The store isn’t open before his game.”
“How long is Parker’s soccer game?”
“Probably about an hour.”
“So, I could watch it and THEN you could take us to the Lego store together . . . and then maybe we could have LUNCH together even?”
“You really want to just sit and watch your friend play soccer for an hour just so you can take him to a store to buy him some Lego?”
(Shrug.) “Sure.”
So Collin, lover of football, Percy Jackson, and Harry Potter, is convinced he is destined for Gryffindor House at Hogwarts. He even proudly wears a shirt proclaiming as much these days. But sometimes I wonder . . .
For his birthday, Collin was given the option of a party with local friends or a trip to D.C. with mom and some special things with one friend whom he doesn’t get to see very often. He opted for D.C. and the plan was dinner out, a sleepover (in our hotel room!), then breakfast (pancakes! Bacon!) and a trip to a Lego store together.
When we learned that his friend Parker has a soccer game on Saturday morning, I explained to Collin that we could still do most things, but we’d likely have to end with breakfast (and do a lower-key breakfast than planned, so Parker didn’t pass out from sugar shock ON the soccer field). He thought about this for a minute.
“So he couldn’t go to the Lego store with me?”
“Well, we could go, but not with Parker, probably. The store isn’t open before his game.”
“How long is Parker’s soccer game?”
“Probably about an hour.”
“So, I could watch it and THEN you could take us to the Lego store together . . . and then maybe we could have LUNCH together even?”
“You really want to just sit and watch your friend play soccer for an hour just so you can take him to a store to buy him some Lego?”
(Shrug.) “Sure.”
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