Imagine That

My son leads a secret double life. Typical third-grade boy by day, once school is out (and if there’s nothing good on TV) he sheds his cover and becomes Super Terrific Imaginary Action Hero Boy.

The life of a super terrific imaginary action hero boy can be an arduous one, fraught with danger, destruction, and, of course, lots of explosions. One day he might have to save the world from imaginary mutant dinosaurs, the next he may have to rally the good, ahem, metamorphing robots to repel an attack from the bad ones. The following day he may be an imaginary mutant dinosaur out to destroy the world. And of course there are the standard battles to wage that only involve humans ... who happen to be armed to the teeth with automatic weapons and laser guns.

Whatever the nature of the task facing a super terrific imaginary action hero boy, there are always two common elements: automatic weapon fire and mass destruction. The automatic weapon fire is essential because of the need for cool sound effects. That telltale tshtshtshtshtsht sound of an imaginary machine gun can be heard no matter what a boy is playing. "OK, Billy, you be the Pope and I'll be Buddha. Tshtshtshtshtsht!"

Incidentally, not every boy grows out of the sound-effects stage. Ms N gives me guff every time I pick up one of our cats. It's not a conscious act, but every time I hoist them off the ground I make a "Tshew" sound.

As for mass destruction, well, every third-grade boy worth his fruit snacks is a walking mass of destruction. Whether he's causing it or trying to prevent it, a super terrific imaginary action hero boy faces destruction of Biblical proportions every day.

It's a thankless imaginary job, but with great imaginary power comes great imaginary responsibility.

As I was getting ready to work on a household project, I heard my son downstairs. He was engaged in an epic battle that stretched from the living room to the dining room. There was even a sneak attack against the enemy’s flank in the hallway. Before long, the imaginary battle worked its way up the stairs and right to the edge of the room I was in.

"So how's the battle going?" I asked.

"Good," he replied, before unloading another imaginary clip into his surging imaginary foes.

"Are you winning?"

"No," he answered. He switched to a more laser-sounding weapon.

"Oh," I replied. Sensing a fatherly advice type moment, I figured I'd dispense some fatherly advice. "Well, keep fighting the good fight and I'm sure you'll prevail."

"Yeah," he answered, firing a few more rounds. "That's the way it usually works out."