This morning, in the midst of my half-sleep, I heard a child call out a familiar question, one that made me think I must be dreaming.
“Do you want to be Batman or Robin?”
Suddenly I was back in my yard on Hartford Lane, playing on “the Big Rock,” which doesn’t look so big any more, by the way. It was a large sandstone boulder that the builders probably took one look at and said, “Yeah, we’re not moving that sucker.”
Good thing for us, too, because that rock became our Batcave, Batmobile, Batcopter, and USS Enterprise (I’ve already disclosed the fact that I’m an old-school trekkie) all rolled into one. My brother and I often negotiated who would be Batman and who would be his rather lame teenage sidekick, Robin. The “Boy Wonder.” Sheesh. The argument usually ended well for me and poorly for my brother, because age won out.
“Mike, who’s older, Batman or Robin?” I would ask, crafting my argument.
“Batman,” Mike answered grudgingly. He saw where this was going.
“And who’s older, me or you?”
“You, but –“
And that usually did it; like the immutable laws of physics (whatever that is), there’s no arguing the simple logic of boys.
It was different this morning, however. As it turned out I wasn’t dreaming of my past, or my brother Mike, or the Big Rock. My children were in the living room, awake before I was, as is often the case on the weekends, and they were firing up the Wii, getting ready to play Lego Batman. Like me, Diego has used the age argument to ensure that he gets to “be” Batman. Usually. Unlike my brother, however, Jackson has figured out how to manipulate the situation to his advantage. Jackson knows that if he acts like he doesn’t want to play long enough, Diego will crack, and ask the question I heard this morning.
“Do you want to be Batman or Robin?”
Eventually, one of them relents and agrees to be Batman’s youthful ward, and they get to the business of fighting the various members of the Gallery of Rogues – Joker, Penguin, Riddler, Catwoman, Mr. Freeze, and Poison Ivy. They squeal and laugh and scream and bark orders at each other, generally just waking me up in a whole variety of vocal ways. I like that the game has them problem-solving together, as a team. Okay, so they’re not outside, using their imaginations the way Mike and I were. And maybe they should be. But they’re together and happy and I can’t help but smile as I listen to their filial back and forth.
Besides, I’m not sure what they’d think of the Big Rock. I believe in my heart they’d love it just as much as I did. I do harbor a fear, however, that they might look at it and say, “Um, duh, Dad. This is so not the Batmobile. Hand me Mommy’s iPhone and I’ll pull it up for you on Google Images, so you can see what it really looks like.”
