I've made some slightly unkind, sarcastic comments about Star Trek fans in my life. Star Trek, Battlestar Galactica, comic book nuts (er, fans)... Same difference. I have judged them. I've called them names. I have been almost a tiny bit mean, maybe. But no longer. Something has happened to change all that. I fear it's all coming back to bite me, so I am turning over a new leaf. A leaf of love, compassion and understanding. From this day forth I say, "Rock on, pitifully lonely, pointy-eared, spandex costume-wearin,' still-living-with-your-mom, never-had-a-girlfriend, nasal spray-addicted, convention-goer! I salute you!" Oh, sorry. It just slips out. That was the last one. I'm all done, startinnng... ... ... NOW.
Earlier today I was giving Tucker my "undivided attention" (meaning I was utilizing that awesome Mom Listening skill where you maintain eye contact while you smile and nod, and you're somehow able to say things like, "Wow, buddy! That's sooo cool!" at all the right times, but really you are making a mad, mental dash to your happy place) as he went on and on and on and on about some video game, that may or may not have had something to do with Spider-man. If Tuck were to rank these types of conversations in importance, they would be on par with finding the cure for cancer, so I do my best to understand and be interested. I love Tucker. Really, I do. He is a very bright, sweet, wonderful boy. I cherish every opportunity to hear about all the things that interest my kids (wow, I said that with a totally straight face) and I would never want to be critical of their interests or make fun of my own child. At least not on a public forum... at home in private is fine. (Kidding... Kind of.)
But the boy does take his superheroes very seriously. I'm sure when he's old enough to notice girls, that phase will pass, right? Please, God?
Anyway, Evan walked in behind him and, with a serious and deeply interested tone, says, "Hey, Tucker? When you grow up, buddy, are you gonna be going to those Spider-man conventions, all dressed up like Eddie Brock to talk about, like, every detail of Spider-man?"
Now, Evan is a very witty guy. He has that dry humor that I love so much, and he's sharp as a tack. His sense of humor is way beyond his years, and he makes me laugh every single day with some perfectly-timed crack. It's one of my favorite things about him, but unfortunately, that type of humor is often lost on little kids and the superhero obsessed.
So Tucker- not feelin' the levity- snaps, "Now, how am I supposed to dress like Eddie Brock, Evan? Huh? How? I don't even have a jacket that looks like that! And I don't look anything like Eddie Brock, Evan!!" He seemed slightly agitated. A tad more P.O.'d than the situation called for, but that's just my opinion.
(This is the Eddie Brock character, BTW, who becomes Venom in Spmn 3. Duh.)
Evan and I exchanged a look and had a sweet little mother/son bonding moment where we were both kind of telepathically making fun of poor Tuck before I started to giggle and ruined the magic. Ah... Good times. Of course, Tucker didn't understand why anyone would be laughing over a topic of such weighty importance as this one, which just seemed to add to his P.O.'dness.
Later, Tuck came back to ask me what a Spider-man convention even is. I dodged the question. For now. Can you blame me? He's going to think it sounds awesome, and he'll go on and on and on and... He's going to want to go to one. I just know it. I've got it coming. I pretty much asked for it.
Aw, geez. I'm going to need a much bigger happy place to handle that.