Everyday heroes

Have you ever seen "Higglytown Heroes"? It's a cute kids' show with a nice message; the 'heroes' are everyday workers in a small town doing the jobs that keep things moving smoothly. The characters are colorful, bouncy matryoshkas with arms; they're good natured and supportive of one another. Haven't yet seen an episode with a 'bad guy', just bad circumstances -- someone locked himself in the bathroom, someone needed to get across town fast, etc. And the theme song is by They Might Be Giants, my favorite musicians.

Hearing the theme song recently made me think of the specialties that we ourselves have developed in this past few years of raising a family. No, we're not really Wonder Woman and Superman, but we have our moments.

For the record, here are the everyday heroes -- and anti-heroes -- at our house.

"Sir Sorts-A-Lot"
From the time he could sit up on his own, Adrian has liked arranging his world into size, shape, rainbow, and/or alphabetical order. It made him very well suited to his Montessori preschool, and probably explains his disinterest in most types of 'pretend play'. He likes working with the actual pieces of the physical world more than imagining himself as, say, a knight in shining armor. I'm much more tolerant of dawdling when I know he's 85% done with a big sorting job -- he, like his father, likes closure.

"The Vanisher"
A little while back, we learned that Nathan's super-power is the power of disappearing stuff. He can carry a handful of crayons across a room and two of them will be gone by the time he gets to the table. Likewise Legos, marbles, Goldfish crackers, playing cards. For almost all of his 2s and 3s, his most common statement was "I don't know where it goed." Somehow with a flick of the wrist, he can force up to 12% of any set of objects out of this universe. If they show up in yours, please let me know.

"Daddy!"
Dean, of course. The man who reads everything, understands it, and has near-total recall of any fact related to the sciences, history, mathematics and the arts. He is the one who is invoked when the children ask questions like "How many minutes has it been since the Earth?" and "What temperature is the sun?" I can ask clarifying questions like, "On the surface of the sun, or in the center?" but regardless of how they answer, I have to say "Let's go ask Daddy." "Who was President before Barack Obama?" "Check with Daddy." "What does a jellyfish eat?" "Daddy can tell us."

"Roaring Tiger, Yelling Dragon"
I consider myself a patient person, tolerant of delays, incompetence, bureaucracy, and the many failings of others. It makes me a good teacher, a good employee, a good customer. But somehow our kids can short-circuit my patience, and if this happens at a stressful time or during one of the two times a month that I currently have my period, WATCH OUT. I can reduce the boys to tears without saying any actual words. "Mom, why are you roaring at us?" they weep, as I struggle to get the too-tight, too-round waterproof mattress pad onto Adrian's bed. "I'm not roaring at YOU, but I did roar, didn't I?" I sigh, as I gather their hot tearful selves onto my lap. "I'm sorry that scared you. I am not mad at YOU, but I AM feeling very mad."

"Plumpy Dumpling"
Smoky. Round and grey, he hurls himself up onto tables and bureaus like a crazed gopher, digging through our papers and spare change, dipping his paws in our water glasses and cereal. Also sometimes called "S**t Mittens" for his tendency to track stuff around on the carpet. "Smoky, get your s**t mittens out of my water glass. And by the way, There Is Not Enough Room There For You."

"Smidnight"
Midnight, a.k.a. The Bad Cat. Both hero and anti-hero. Able to flatten himself and stretch out like a snake on the end of the bed and sleep all night long. Also able to drag small creatures into the living room every few days.