Saturday is Fatty Lumpkins' fifth birthday. I was sure he was only 3, but my sister Foo-Dog said he's 5, and, being his mother, she should know.
The kid never shuts up. And his favorite topic? Super heroes. He is, on any given day, the Hulk, Spider-Man or Iron Man.
Fatty Lumpkins is all about the super heroes, and that's what he wants for Christmas, Easter, his birthday and in-between, too. So, when one year my mother made the mistake of getting him an extra gift of clothing (that he needed), he was none too pleased. Clothes weren't super heroes, and he was having none of it. So I told him I was going to buy him socks and underwear for his birthday.
I bought him a Thor doll and wrapped it in socks and underwear. (In my defense, it was super hero Underoos.) I think that, had he known any curse words, he would have cussed me good when he opened it.
His older brother the Heathenish thought this was all very hilarious, so for his birthday, I hid his DS game in a package of socks. Since I'd taken special care to reseal the package, he was mystified. He kept looking in the bottom of the bag to see if he could figure out where I'd hidden his real present.
This year, my mother and I went together to buy him a Batcave (with light-up Batsignal!) and a clutch of villains to go with it - you can't have a Batcave complete with jail cell and not have any villains to put into it. (You should have seen me hiking through the mall, toting a four-foot high Batcave in my five-inch heels. It was awesome. Only, you know, not.)
Grampy Grumpy was disappointed. "No socks and underwear this year?" He has an odd sense of humor.
"I'll buy a package of each, and you can tell him one is from you and the other is from me," I told him.
"What's your sister getting him?" the Long Suffering Husband wanted to know.
"A hamster." Fatty Lumpkins had already told me he planned to name it Captain America "because Captain America has a shield." No clue what having a shield has to do with a hamster. Maybe shields are just awesome, and Fatty hopes to lend a little of that awesome to his hamster through transference?
"Too bad you can't wrap a hamster," he offered. "He'd freak out if his present started walking around."
"You could, if you left tiny little holes for its legs," I said.
"You could put it in a hamster ball and wrap the hamster ball," he said. "If you put some air holes in it, it could just roll around. He'd love it."
Clearly, he's spending way too much time with me; I'm starting to rub off on him.
I think I'll just stick with socks; I'll only need about 100.
(Wallace-Minger, The Weirton Daily Times community editor, is a Weirton resident and can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org)