Breakfast With Superheroes

We have people looking at the house all week, which according to current real estate etiquette means they come in, we go out. Think Trading Places without the makeover. It’s like some sort of Seinfeldian bizzaro world where our house is a hotel, constantly clean for others, and we can’t even attend the first desk if the room is occupied. This, however, as Nikki Strobel would say, is good news for me. It means lots of lunches and dinners eaten out and shopping trips galore.

Tonight we watched The Indian and the Cupboard, a magic tale where a young boy happens upon a magical cupboard that magically turns fake toys into real things. For example, the plastic Indian figurine is transformed into living flesh and blood with the turn of the cupboard key. If I was that kid, I’d stop messing around with Dances With Wolves and put some monopoly money into that cupboard.

In the meantime my Dad is busy building a multi-million dollar eighth wonder of the modern world at work, has not slept more than 4 hours a night for the past two weeks, comes home after twenty hour work days, loves my mom, makes me laugh with Professor Classuea impressions, and makes my brothers feel like the most important boys in the whole wide world. Some kids resort to comic books and summer blockbusters to find superheroes; my brothers have to look across the breakfast table.