Super...Man

My boys are Superman NUTS. Anyone who knows me knows that I myself am a fan of the Last Son of Krypton, but these kids are crazy for Superman. My four-year-old Riley went through an 18-month spell of wearing a cape. It started on Halloween and never really stopped. It actually provided an easy form of discipline. Simply take the cape away and he was whipped into submission. If the cape were taken for a long period of time I would often find him huddled in a corner. After coaxing him out, I would realize that he was trying to hide the dishtowel tucked into the nape of his neck. My 4-year-old understands addiction.

Did I enjoy the recent movie? I did. As movies go, I will admit that there are better superhero movies out there. It is hard to make a decent movie about Superman. His true arena is in the comics.

Does anyone even read comics anymore? The only people I can imagine reading comics are people my age and older, and most of them are the ones that decided to forgo college and skip right to the money making venture of selling comics and baseball cards in the temporary sales tables that only set up on weekends at the mall. Weekdays (and nights) are spent playing World of Warcraft. Great career move guys.

I read comics to my boys occasionally. They love it. The love waned for the year we had cable. I got a taste of what has replaced comics for kids. It is these psychedelic, flashing Asian based cartoons readily equipped with the mass media market role playing toy campaign (in conjunction with Wal-Mart). Most end in -on or -an such as Pokemon, Digimon, Bakugan etc...I will refrain from any attempts to incorporate a quip using the word "seizure."

Being a fan of something, whether it be a sports team, a superhero, or a certain type of animal decor (my mother loves decorating with frogs) is actually a gift to giftgivers. Most of the superman paraphernalia in my possession was given to me by others. I save them the hassle of putting any thought into a gift for me. One must be careful not to over-display such gifts as they may lead one to fall into the Raiderfan syndrome. I have recieved some cheesy Superman gifts in my day.

One time I indulged and bought a Superman item for myself. I bought a robe from a mail order catalog. Apparently this was a company that sold individual products from several different distributors. I received my robe and still wear it proudly. What I was not aware of was that the distributor for this particular robe had little to do with the mass marketing of Warner Brothers or DC Comics, and more to do with the high end men's fashion underwear ala Derek Zoolander. Along with my robe, I received a copy of their product catalog. There were no Fruit of the Loom or Hanes products in this catalog. Quite the contrary, the products in this catalog looked like something out of aTarantino/Kubrick collaborative work. Yeah...you are getting the idea. Now I do not consider myself naive, but I always felt that sacrificing comfort in the name of fashion was strictly a female thing. I was not aware of the masochistic, fashion conscious male who would wear something requiring an instruction booklet (and a second mortgage) in order to wear. I still receive the monthly mailer and I have altered the way I open my mailbox just in case the catalog shows up. I certainly don't want anyone seeing me with the thing, even if I am taking it from my mailbox to my trashcan. What further boggles my mind is how any of the people who would wear these things would also be Superman fans. Then it hit me ...The robe was offered at a screaming good price, which means none of the freaks who patronize the underwear company bought it. Which means two things...I don't have anything in common with the underwear people--and the comic book people at the mall aren't sporting $90 undergarments under those sweat pants---both thoughts give me great peace of mind.

Cookies, Cross-Examination, and the Fine Art of Negotiation

I used to be rather timid in sales situations. I would not call me the pushover type, but rather the reluctant buyer. This all changed in 2002 when I took a job as a furniture salesman. Rather than fumble my way through the world of sales negotiation, I decided that during my down-time on the sales floor that I would attempt to learn everything I could about the art of the sale. This came easily as I found that most of the work week was spent doing absolutely nothing, waiting for the weekend rush. I read sales negotiation books, I learned everything I could about my products, and I worked on my presentation as often as possible.

Today I had the experience of negotiating with my 6-year-old Joshua, regarding a semi-frequent experience in the Ringer home...Milk & Cookies with dad. A bit of background:

Joshua is a child who LOVES the schedule. He enjoys knowing exactly what will happen and when it is happening. He does well at holding his parents to the schedule. When he recessed for Christmas vacation, he found himself with a lot of free time. Some children would find this a welcome relief, but not Joshua, as his schedule was interrupted and life as we know it was bound to end. So I began making a simple schedule with him each morning. Today's schedule included that blessed event 'milk and cookies with dad.' However, Cheryl had unwittingly gave him some candy as a result of good behavior early in the evening, and we thus felt that milk and cookies would be a bit much for our young child. The following exchange then occurred:

Joshua: But dad, it is ON THE SCHEDULE!!
Dad: I know, but you have already had a treat tonight.
Joshua: I really wanted milk and cookies tonight dad.
Dad: Well can you give me three good reasons why you should have it anyway?
Joshua pausing to think: Well, I really like how the cookies taste.
Dad: That is a good reason...can you think of any other reasons?
Joshua: Well, I didn't know that I wouldn't get milk and cookies when mom gave me the candy bar, or else I wouldn't have taken it. She never told me.
Dad: Hmmm...and your third reason?
Joshua: I like spending time with daddy.

Now I realize that this was part sincere and part one well-placed-card by my son, but I acquiesced as to the milk and cookies as a whole, and then attempted to mitigate the sugary damage:

Dad: Well I guess you can have them. But because you already had a treat, you can only have one cookie instead of three.
Joshua (after pondering a moment): Dad, a candy bar is a treat right?
Dad: Yes.
Joshua: And cookies are a treat too, right?
Dad (now recognizing that I had just walked blindly into a clever cross-examination): yes.
Joshua: Well then I think I need to get two cookies, because I only had one treat earlier.

My son got his two cookies. And I learned that all you need to do to learn the fine art of negotiation is take notes on a child who is in danger of losing cookies and milk.