Dear Superman,

We had to stop by the mailbox on our block this morning to drop in a movie that Mom and Dad had rented from Netflix. There was a large, white-haired dog (our neighbor's dog actually) tied up outside the post office, looking hungrily at Ian as we came closer. Ian managed to become one with my right leg as we slinked past him, and Ian, relieved, said, "Mom, he didn't eat me because he was waiting for his mommy." My, don't Mommies prevent all manner of disaster.

After dropping our movie in the mailbox, I explained to Ian that with a mailbox he could write a letter and send it anywhere in the world, and he said... "Yeah!! Even Batman could write a letter and send it to Superman!" This would be the letter, as dictated by Ian on our way to school:


Dear Superman:

Hi. I'd like to play with you. Can you play? I think we should play and watch TV. But first, you have to eat your dinner. Then you have to put on your Batman clothes. Then you have to brush your teeth. Then we can play and watch TV. See you later.

Batman


I learned that Superman and Batman also have addresses. Batman lives on 46 Street and Superman lives on 46-7 street. "You mean 47 street?" I asked. No, it's actually a street called 46-7. Ian had Batman riding his rocket ship over to Superman's place until he realized the proximity of those addresses to each other and said, "I guess Batman could just walk over there."

And how would Superman get over to Batman's if they wanted to play there. Disgust and impatience from Ian. Why was it so hard for Moms to catch on? "Mom, Superman has a caappp, he can fly there."

"You mean a cape?" I asked. No, a cap.

And poor Spiderman doesn't even figure into the play date planning. Maybe he's waiting for his Mommy, too.