Today during the drive home from swimming lessons, I caught this magic moment between my two kids in the back seat.
My 4-year-old son--we'll call him Superpower Man, per his request--is looking at his Iron Man sticker book. His 19-month-old sister, who we'll call Pinkie (per my request), is watching him with a wistful expression. (And yes, I am looking at the road. I don't need to see them to know what they are doing, I'm just that good.)
Pinkie: Spidehma! I wan' Spidehma!
Superpower Man (offended): This is NOT Spiderman!
SP Man: MOM! She's calling my Iron Man book "Spiderman"!
Me: Blah blah blah, she's just a baby, blah BLEH.
SP Man: HE'S. NOT. SPIDERMAN. Look at him. Does it look like he has a Spiderman head?!
Pinkie: ... Spidehma!
SP Man: UGH.
Me: (To Pinkie) Can you say IRON Man?
Pinkie: (Thinks.) Eye-di-dun.
Me: There, that's better!
SP Man: Mom, she said "Iron DUH."
Me: Blah blah blah, she's just a baby, blah BLEH BLEH.
(A few moments of silence go by, during which Pinkie says "Spidehma" several more times and apparently Superpower Man has turned the page.)
SP Man: See, look. This black guy (as in, dressed in black) is not Spiderman. He's a bad guy.
Pinkie: Bad guy?
SP Man: Super heroes don't have guns like these. This is a super villain!
(Superpower Man groans.)