[It’s birthday season around here and birthday season makes me nostalgic for my little boys and maybe a little relieved that I’m not making elaborate superhero cakes anymore. Here’s a throwback to those days.]
A little conversation earlier this week with my youngest son Simon tweaked a memory for me. As I helped him get dressed for the day, he relayed to me his latest make-believe-action-adventure that I had interrupted (although he did tell his brothers he’d “be right back after these messages”). He described to me how first he “haf-ted” to do this, then he “haf-ted” to do that. It clicked with me that I had seen a similar verb form on the pages of a Dennis the Menace comic book.
Some quick research from my home library (“Dennis the Menace: Make-Believe Angel”, © 1961) confirmed my suspicions. In fact, several of Dennis’ grammarisms and mannerisms were awfully familiar to this mother of three young boys. For instance, Dennis dropping the typewriter (“Anyone could drop a typewriter!”) was not unlike a situation in my house this week. Midway through shampooing my hair, my eldest called through the bathroom door in a half-pained, half-panicked voice: “Mom! The TV fell down!” While he was maneuvering it to a better angle, the TV fell from its perch but heroically, Gil managed to saved it from almost-certain death, partially cushioning the blow with his leg. (The resulting purple bruise is very impressive.) I arrived in the living room dripping wet and found three boys sitting on the floor watching the television that kept on ticking, except with its own the purplish bruise on the corner of the screen where it had landed. Needless to say, I didn’t use conditioner on my hair that day.
If Hank Ketchum – creator of Dennis the Menace – was willing to pay for the copyright, I’m sure that Dennis, too, would have been playing with Batman, Spiderman and Superman, in make-believe-action-adventures just like the ones my boys love to play. Recently, at a major department store in the superhero aisle, my boys salivated over and comparison-shopped for the Most Excellent Toys to put on their Christmas list. A bewildered grandma-type-person stood nearby, considering a plush Spiderman and listening to the boys like they were market analysts. When she asked for help, the four of us convinced her to choose Magnetic Spiderman (he sticks to the fridge!) over the sissy Spiderman pillow. She thanked us, and then gratefully escaped to Barbie Doll Land. We would be no help there. Plus, Barbie has a restraining order against my boys.
Dennis epitomizes the saying, “He’s all boy.” Actually, he’s all boy and then some. I’m thankful that my boys aren’t nearly as early risers as Dennis or as distrustful of soap and water or as prone to repeat everything they shouldn’t have heard their parents say. While Dennis prefers a slingshot as his weapon of choice, my boys are fond of Dollar Store swords and spears, or cardboard tubes in a pinch. Just like Dennis, however, they have no reservations about getting into a fight and if they get a shiner, that’s makes it all worth it. Even his favorite foods Dennis will rename to make them more appealing to his boyish sensitivities, calling spaghetti and meatballs “Worms and Golf Balls.” When the boys helped me make a chocolate pudding cake this week, they dubbed it “Poopy Pudding”. I have to admit, it did sort of look like that before we put it in the oven.
And so it is with wry amusement that I realized my husband and I have inadvertently perpetuated the Dennis the Menace trope not once, but three times. Their antics may not be quite as mischievous, but they could certainly fill a (comic) book nonetheless.