Littlest adores superheroes. Batman, Superman, Spider-Man, Captain America, Iron Man. He’s not fussy. Any old hero with a cape and a mask and he’s in his element, saving the world and getting the baddies. He loves the action toys, the dress-up clothes, the theme songs, the clothing.
While his big brother and sister are at school we often play superheroes. He’s always the good guy and I’m always the baddie. He always wins. Naturally.
This morning, while he was debating whether to wear a Superman or Batman t-shirt, I asked him who his favourite superhero was. This isn’t the first time we’ve had such a conversation. His favourite changes regularly depending on who is flavour of the week.
Today, however, his answer surprised me so much I hardly knew what to say.
“Who’s the best superhero?” I asked.
“Super Mummy is my favourite,” he replied.
Wow. I seriously wasn’t expecting that.
“Ohh, thank you!” I said cuddling him tightly. “You’re the best super boy too.”
“Super Mummy’s the best!” he said again.
“What does Super Mummy do that makes her the best super hero?” I asked, intrigued.
“Go to the shops, play cars, read stories, go to Legoland and kill people.”
Now let’s just get this one straight – that last one is most definitely and absolutely not true. Beyond reasonable doubt not true!
But the other four? Yes, this mummy does all of that. Legoland admittedly only the once so far. But the others I do day in, day out, without even thinking about it.
I don’t think there’s anything out of the ordinary about going to the shops or playing with cars and reading books. That’s just stuff we do as parents. Sometimes we love it. Sometimes the last thing we want to do is read Dear Zoo for the 25th time that day. But we do it with the most enthusiastic voice we can muster because we know how much it means to our children.
But in the eyes of the little people in our lives, the ordinary is extraordinary. It makes us as wonderful as any caped crusader saving the world from impending doom.
As I wrote last week, I’ve been feeling a bit of a crap mum of late. I’m trying to juggle it all but feel like I’m dropping balls all over the place and shouty mum rears her head more often than I’d like. I start the day wanting to be Mary Poppins but end it more like Cruella de Vil, to quote that viral meme which does the rounds on Facebook every so often.
But it doesn’t matter what I think. Because in the eyes of my boy, I’m a hero. Not just any hero. The best superhero in the world. And that’s good enough for me.
Now, excuse me while I iron my cape.
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