Joey and I had dinner too late tonight. We had planned to get Thai Thai takeout after Joey attended an event at church. But Thai Thai is closed on Mondays. Boo. So I ordered from Sweet Basil. Once home, we opened our takeout boxes and the order was wrong. Double Boo. I get really disappointed by food mishaps.
To redeem our evening, we decided to rent Man of Steel, the most recent Superman movie.
About fifteen minutes into it, I’m bawling. Little Clark is sitting in a mop closet crying because the other kids are making fun of him. He’s different. He’s a freak. Clark’s earthly mom comes up to the school to coax him out. Heaven forbid I ever find Finn this way. Oh, my heart!
I know all kids get made fun of; all kids get their feelings hurt. Not just the “different” ones. I sure did.
My hand was raised to go to the bathroom in Mrs. Seastrunk’s first grade classroom. She wouldn’t let me go until I spelled the three different types of “there” in front of the class. I stood up front, crossing my legs in discomfort. Lloyd, in the front row, screeched, “Eww! She peed!” Urine was trickling down my leg and out from under my private-school plaid jumper, puddling on the carpet beneath me. The class screamed. I ran and hid in the bathroom for hours…until my mom came to rescue me.
My child is different. I wish he weren’t. But I believe he’s different in the way Superman is different. Like from another world with a perspective on life that I’ll never understand, an appreciation for the little things, a joy that I hope remains unshakeable. And I pray that just like Clark Kent, he comes to know his True Father…the One from another world.
All good parents believe their child can do anything, be anyone. They are little superheroes. And Finn is my Child of Steel.