I’m Not Doc Ock

Knowing that your kid thinks you can move mountains is a good feeling, right? They believe in us more than we believe in ourselves, even after six shots of Fireball, and that’s saying something. No matter what problem comes up, they think we can fix it, whether it’s making their ouchies better with the healing powers in our kisses or ridding their room of monsters with magic swords.

There are times, though, when they overestimate our abilities and times when we really wish that they weren’t so confident in us. Like when Baby Girl lets her popsicle melt into a sticky mess and asks me to fix it — I can’t do that. When God was handing out parenting superpowers, he totally skipped giving me the ability to instantly revert a liquid into a solid. No sorcerer powers here. I can’t snap my fingers and make the sun stop shining too brightly, either. I do have Spidey like reflexes when it comes to catching a kid’s vomit before it goes all over the couch, though, which is severely underappreciated.

One time the kids really tend to overestimate just how much I’m capable of is when we’re in the car. They expect me to be Doc Ock while I’m driving, and since I prefer us all arriving wherever we’re going in one piece, I often disappoint them. (Not that this disappointment stops them from believing in me, though.) Here are some of the things they’ve requested over the past few months:

This from the child who once told me that I wasn’t any good at doing Transformers? I wouldn’t even if I could.

This one was tempting, just because he bragged about being better at Mario than me. The ability to gloat was just slightly edged out by not wanting to put my car in a ditch.

That’s a cheesy roll-up from Taco Bell, in case you’re wondering — something she has no trouble managing in the car. She was watching me doodle and requested that I show her eating that, so there ya go. More recently she’s requested that I feed her ice cream. She insisted on a cup of ice cream, even though I told her she couldn’t eat it in the car and that she’d have to wait until we got home, but she thought I could work my parenting mojo anyway. Nope.

At least she didn’t ask me to rub her back this time, I guess?

Baby Girl also frequently asks me to pick up things she’s dropped. Now, if she dropped things like a normal person, I could reach behind and grab whatever it is at a stop light or stop sign since her car seat is behind me. However, she typically drops things as far away from my reach as possible. So, not only am I not Doc Ock, I’m not Elastigirl, either, even if my crappy doodles do make my arms look ridiculously long sometimes.

So, dear kiddos of mine, I greatly appreciate your confidence in my abilities, but let’s cool it on the requests while I’m driving a one-and-a-half ton car down the road at 55 mph (that’s my story and I’m sticking to it), okay?

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