After writing about something as weighty to me as what I think about our country's plan to open a missile distribution center in Syria (Why Is The Red Line Made Of Chemicals?), I always feel obligated to write about something lighter. In reality, it's probably more about therapy than obligation.
I rarely think about the things I want to write about. They just come to me. Sometimes in the shower, on a walk, listening to Fox News or CNN (when re-runs of the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show aren't available), or when opening our refrigerator.
I love our refrigerator. Sometimes I love it before I ever get to the leftover pizza or diet coke. I went to grab some breakfast yesterday morning, which is where the leftover pizza and diet coke comes in, and an unexpected breeze blew me away from the door before I reached my meal. Finding solid footing again I looked back at the refrigerator door hoping to learn what had just hit me. I discovered I had inadvertently stepped into the flight zone of a Superhero. I stared for a moment at a picture of the scene, which had magically attached itself to the door. The Superhero was clearly pleased with his performance; this particular Superhero usually is if it results in something being blown up or missing breakfast to take in one of his shows.
It wasn't until this brush with the world well beyond mine and Syria's that it sunk in our boys were back in school. Summer was gone. We were back to packing lunches, dropping kids off at school, picking them up, waiting on busses, eating dinner, taking baths, going to bed and repeat. The unpredictable adventures of summer had their fishing poles and swim trucks kicked to the curb by the return of routine.
I'm grateful that the boys have teachers who make routine adventurous itself. Ian made the picture above as part of his Superhero theme at school right now. If ever a child needed encouragement to assume the role of a Superhero, his or her name is not Ian Cartwright. But it makes for some cool refrigerator material.
I took Elliott to school this morning and I took a stab at trying to learn about his first-week-of-school adventures. He's more conservative with his fly-bys, so you often have to pry things out of him. I asked him to tell me the funnest thing he had done so far this week. He said it was probably recess since it wasn't gym.
"Why wasn't it gym", I asked.
"Because all we did in gym this week was listen about how we're supposed to act at school. Gym will be the funnest thing again next week because we're going to have "real" gym"
I think his position there is hereditary. I have many former teachers who would claim that I was never a big fan of being told how to act in school.
Today is spirit day at school for Elliott. He left home filled with it. I think I'll stick a bit of it on the refrigerator as well, in case the Superhero runs out of his. It's good refrigerator therapy for all of us.