In Sickness and in Super Powers

As the kids have gotten older, our conversations have evolved from, "If Cinderella's slippers fit so well, why did one fall off?", into deeper, more meaningful topics such as the one that follows:

They decided the best place to display this fun book order poster was our refrigerator.

As the girls and I were milling around the kitchen after dinner,  Reese pointed to it and asked, "If you could marry any of those Superheroes on there, which one would it be?"

I was pretty sure she was just trying to redirect my attention from the fact she wasn't helping with the dishes, but decided to see where this conversation would go.

"Ummm...your Dad?" I answered as a question.

"No," she corrected, "One of the guys on there!", she reemphasized.

Still thinking this might be a trap, I continued, "Don't I have to say your Dad?"

"No. Not for this," she said authoritatively.

She took the lead and answered herself, "Like I'd marry either Captain America or Thor.  They're cute."

Drue chose Captain America or Arrow.

(I saved my parental lecture about not marrying someone based solely on looks, etc.  But it will resurface.  Trust me.)

And I forced myself to consider my Superhero husband prospects.

"Hmmm...well...Captain America is way too young for me..." I began.

Both girls snickered and said, "What?! No he's not.  He's like 100 years old!"

And while his old-fashioned gentlemanly ways do appeal to me, I pointed out, "Yes, well, he was preserved a little too young for me!"

#imnotacougar

"Hulk's temper creeps me out a bit," I continued.  "Soooo...I'm gonna have to go with Ironman."

This appeased them both and they went on their merry way. Sneakily dodging dish duty altogether.

Still feeling a bit guilty about even considering marrying someone else, I hastily hollered out, "Don't tell your Dad!"