Kevin Lucia discusses the mysteries of the universe with his daughter Madison.  Okay, well, mysteries of the Marvel Universe...

Madison and I were washing dishes yesterday when she decided to take a die cast figurine of Magneto, Master of Magnetism, (yes—one of mine), swimming while we worked.  As she plunked and dunked poor little Magneto, (whose mastery over magnetism proved utterly useless amidst suds, ceramic plates and plastic cups), with gleeful delight, she exclaimed…

Madison: Look, Daddy! Superman is taking a bath!
Me: No, honey—Superman is DC Comics. That’s Magneto; he’s Marvel Comics. Can you say Magneto?
Madison: I dunno (plunk, plunk).
Me: Here, let’s sound it out. Mag…
Madison: Mag…
Me: ne….to…Magneto.
Madison: Mahneto!
Me: Good enough, kiddo.
Madison: Daddy, I like Magneto!
Me: Really? Why’s that?
Madison: I dunno. (proceeds to vigorously dunk poor Magneto).  Because he likes water!
Me: You like Magneto because he likes water? Isn’t the Sub-Mariner the big water guy in Marvel?
Madison: (frowns) Huh?
Me: Never mind. Waitaminute. You don’t like Magneto better than the Hulk, do you?
Madison: Uh-Huh (dunks some more).
Me: (Uh, oh). Why?
Madison:  Because Magneto’s nicer.
Me: How’s he nicer?
Madison: I dunno. Because he likes water?
Me: Wait—Magneto is nicer because he likes water?
Madison: Yup! (Proceeds to drown poor little die cast Magneto).

Hulk took this moment to object:
Hulk no like baths. Make Hulk look like wrinkled grape. Hulk like sponge baths; with nice squishy loofah.
What about Magneto?
Hulk hate Magneto. Magneto stupid dumb-head. Magneto go shoot beer cans with Hulk in woods, but no talk to Hulk at parties. Puny Magneto.
Unfortunately, Magneto happened to overhear all this.
You brainless mass of primitive brawn! How dare you insult the great Master of Magnetism? Of course the little girl likes me better! I’m die cast, shinier, and I can bend metal to my will! You will pay for your arrogance, and bow before my horrible might! This, I command!
Hey, wait a minute. You stole that last part from Serpentor, that guy Dr. Mindbender made to replace Cobra Commander back in the ‘80’s.
Uh….no I didn’t. I, uh…overheard it at a...comic Convention … somewhere….
Hold on….you are Serpentor, aren’t you?
Er….oops, look at the time. I’m Meeting Professor X for lunch. later! (Jumps on flying serpent throne and speeds off)
No disrespect to Madi, but I’m gonna have to go with the Hulk on this one. You just can’t trust mutant masters of magnetism.
Stupid Magneto. Stupid Serpentor. Hulk smash both, then take nice loofah bath.
Indeed, Hulk. Indeed.

Madison and I Discuss the Emotional Stability of the Incredible Hulk

My three year old daughter Madison and I were coloring in Daddy’s Incredible Hulk coloring book this morning, (note, that’s Daddy’s Incredible Hulk coloring book, with 250 pages of Hulky goodness), when she made this rather astute observation about a picture of the Hulk carrying a huge boulder:

Madison: “Wow! He must be really strong to carry that big rock!”

Me: “He is, sweetie. The Hulk is very strong.”

Madison: frowns. “He always looks so mad. Why is the Hulk always mad, Daddy?”

Me: “Maybe it’s because his pants are always ripped up, sweetie. That would make me mad.”

Madison: “Oh, yeah. Maybe, if we got all our thread and needles and fixed his pants, he wouldn’t be mad anymore!”

Me: “Indeed, sweetie. Indeed.”

Note: To get just the right color for the Hulk’s skin, (from the comic books, that is), using the "Granny Smith Apple" choice in Crayola’s 64-crayon box is best choice, not straight green. Straight green or forest green is best for the Hulk’s hair.

When asked, the Hulk said this:

Hulk: “Hulk wants to be left alone, so Hulk can color in peace. Hulk likes coloring. Hulk likes peace. Hulk no like ripped pants. Ripped pants make Hulk angry, but sweet little girl who wants to fix Hulk’s pants makes Hulk happy.”

Thanks, Hulk, and thank you, Madison, for wanting to help out a gamma-irradiated behemoth who just wants to be left alone to color in pants that fit.

Previous Articles:

• Path to Publication, Part Four
• A Plan in Hand Beats Wandering in the Bush
• The Path to Publication
• No Batteries Included, Patience Required
• Hats, Coats, and Thick Skin Only

For all of you American fans of Relief, Happy 4th of July! Go watch some fireworks!

For our international readers, go write us something nice!

We'll give you something better to read on Monday...

In the spirit of Father's Day this Sunday, Travis Griffith shares some of what he has learned about being a "daddy" versus being a "father."

When my son was born six years ago, I would have said that I knew exactly what it takes to be a daddy. Turns out all I knew was how to become a father. The difference is surreal.

For years my perception of what it meant to be a father was to work hard and earn money for my family. This is a respectable commitment that is shared by millions of fathers. It’s not until an incredible yet amazingly simple piece of advice helped me realize my priorities were not aligned with my true intent, and that I had become ‘just’ a father.

Yes, I was earning good money and, combined with my wife’s salary, we lived a comfortable yet expensive life. My kids were comfortable too; it’s just that their perception of comfort was skewed.They didn’t know how much money we were paying for their daycare. They didn’t understand that Dad wasn’t at school birthday parties because he was at work.

All they knew was that Dad wasn’t there.

And from my point of view, I couldn’t see beyond the meetings scheduled throughout the day and the other upcoming events at work that needed my attention. Things like the birthday party had become secondary, if not tertiary, because I knew my efforts at work were paying for their care and happiness while I was away.

Let me say that again in a slightly different way: my perception was that I was earning money to pay for their happiness.

My idea of fatherhood had become taking comfort in knowing other people were taking care of my kids. And that’s what made me ‘just’ a father, because that attitude began to transcend into my days at home as well. Getting my parents to watch the kids or calling the neighbor kids to come over and play were becoming subconscious ways for me to actually avoid interacting with my children.

I was a presence in their lives… but not an involved one.  

And then something began to change. I was given that simple guidance which over time has transformed my belief of what it means to have children and to be a daddy to them … not just a father.  

I was given the advice to ask, every night at bedtime, what my child’s favorite part of the day was.

So simple.

So incredibly earth shattering.

The answers over two years have surprised me, humored me, enlightened me, fulfilled me and enriched me.

I’d bet that anyone who tries it will over time gain an insight into the tiny lives of their children and begin to see, from their perspective, the very same world we adults live in, only vastly different.

I would have never guessed that my child’s favorite part of the day would be watching the cookies bake at daycare. I would have never even known they made cookies at daycare.

I would have never realized how nervous my son is about riding a different bus to school than usual. Or that he’s so concerned about being the only one wearing jammies at his school’s pajama day.

By asking the same question every night, I feel like I’m slowly connecting myself with the world of my children. And even more profound, I feel like I’ve learned what it means to truly be a daddy.

I’ve learned that daddies make an effort to see and understand the beautiful simplicity of how their children’s eyes view their surroundings.

I’ve learned that daddies take the time to try and understand the influence the world is having on their kids, and then make small adjustments that may be simple, but are needed to create a happier child.

I’ve learned that all daddies are fathers. But not all fathers are daddies.

The pinnacle for me so far was just a few nights ago, as my son lay in bed and I was talking to him about his day. I told him that he’s my favorite boy in the world and that there is no other boy I’d rather have. Ever.

He said, “Daddy, that makes me really happy.”

But the smile on his face said more to me than just his words.

My words to him were so simple. They weren’t poetic and they weren’t elegant. They were just truth spoken straight from my heart. With that simple exchange though, I went to bed feeling on top of the world because I knew my son was in his room, smiling just because I love him.

As I’ve thought about this, I’ve realized my situation is a microcosm of fatherhood in general. This same realization is happening all across the world, as fathers are becoming daddies…

…and children are becoming happier.

Previous Articles:

• The Writing Process and Publication, Take 1 
  
• My Personal UnChristian Story