I repeatedly tell my four year old not to take toys to church. I get that he loves the little superhero toys, and wants to have adventures with them, but my warnings are motivated by a perfectly rational desire to ensure he doesn’t lose them (and I don’t have to buy them again).
This past week he snuck them into the car and managed to bring them in the building. Once there, he didn’t hide the fact that he had them because my wife and the other kids saw him playing with them. Unfortunately he came home from church and his toys didn’t. After searching the building, and pleas for their safe return on Facebook, we got a tip that they may have ended up in the trash.
I’ll admit that my first reaction was a selfish one and I rationalized it to my wife by saying, “it’s been a few days, I doubt the garbage is still there.”
Well, it was.
After reluctantly poking around the bags to find the one it would most likely be in (actually it was pure hope, I picked the least disgusting one), I started digging. It took a few minutes and I was about to give up when I spotted Thor’s red cape. Right next to him was Wolverine and Hulk.
I knew that wasn’t all so I kept looking. After another minute, #2, who was graciously letting me take the lead on this one, spotted Silver Surfer. We didn’t know exactly how many there were (because it would have been nice to stop digging through the bag then), so we kept going.
I didn’t have much tolerance left in me so after another minute the search was over. We may have lost a superhero that day (no one’s really sure how many he took or where the rest of them are in the house), but I’d call it a valiant effort. Hearing the squelch of a radio and a man’s voice in the distance, and not wanting to appear malicious, I put everything back in the bag, tossed it in the dumpster, and quickly left (not that that would look suspicious).
Having spent several days away from him on their own stinky adventure, his heroes are even more super, and I can add the title “rescuer of superheroes” to my list of accomplishments. But actually, I could have cared less what they were. All I wanted was a happy four year old.