The Curse of the Golden Button

Sam has a running game going now with a cast of 17 toys in his room. He won’t play it on his own: this game needs a parent to hear the “voice-over” as the drama unfolds. So Jeremy and I have been taking turns flopping out on Sam’s bed and listening to his latest imaginative “chapter movie.” It's a Speilberg-Marvel-Disney/Pixar production.

The game centres around a figure called “Scar Jupiter,” the evil twin of Buzz Lightyear (created by spinning Buzz’s face around in his helmet to reveal the back of his head: a frighteningly featureless face). Scar Jupiter is hailed accidentally into the galaxy of Sam’s room by Batman, who sometimes carelessly pushes the Golden Button on his utility belt (while trying to do something less destructive, of course), thus summoning the rough beast. Scar arrives and inflicts various menaces, including bombing the galaxy so that it’s cracked (Batman should seriously consider removing that button from his belt, but this plot device is necessary to drive this sci-fi adventure.)

Chapter One sees an enraged Scar challenge Batman to a fight that will determine who rules the Sam’s Room galaxy. Invariably, the battle results in Batman being forced into the black hole of the Tonka toy box, being hypnotized, and becoming a powerless pawn in Scar’s cruel games. In Chapter Two, Batman then recruits other inhabitants of the toy box to the Dark Side. In Chapter Three, a wise and powerful transformer named Cybertron reminds Batman who he really is by bestowing the Ball of Power upon him. Together, they take on Scar and force the toy’s head back to its forward position, revealing the amiable space ranger persona once again.

As if this wasn’t entertaining enough, new chapters have been added in the last day or so. In Chapter Four, Sam’s toys ramp up for an apocalyptic fight between the forces of good and evil, facing off on opposite ends of the lid of the costume trunk. The forces fighting on the side of the beautiful and good are scarce indeed: Batman, Cybertron, Chewbacca, a Surf’s Up penguin, and some guy in a leather suit who rides a Wal-Mart motorcycle (I call him Mad Max). They bravely take on a dozen or so who have sworn allegiance to Scar. There are surprising figures among those evil ranks: R2-D2, both the blue and the green knight from yonder castle, Quasimodo (what makes a monster and what makes a man, Quasi?), and the one-armed Power Ranger. Happily, those who trust in the Ball of Power prevail, and the Dark Side is soundly defeated.

In Chapter Five, entitled “Going Home,” the duelling action figures are all friends now, and they just hang out and do nice things for each other. Talking over ice cream cones, Penguin discovers that, just like him, Chewbacca is also a construction worker in the off season. And who knew that Batman taught a kinder-class at the local school? These are the kinds of things you learn when you put down your weapons and line yourselves up in perfect rows on the Original Six hockey blanket.

Chapter Six, my favourite so far, is called “The Excitement of the Lemonade Stand.” Cybertron surprises the whole gang with cups of fresh lemonade--a treat he picked up free from the neighbourhood kids who were giving the stuff away on their front lawn (which is behind Big Teddy’s head). Everyone is thrilled and appreciative of the kind act. No one talks anymore of the fate of the galaxy or of sacrificing themselves for their warring principles. But then again, it’s been a while since Batman has fumbled with his utility belt...

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The Meaning of Brown

While sitting at the breakfast table this morning, Sam cast curious glances at my cereal bar. Pushing his bowl away, he casually asked, "What's that?" and I explained that it was a healthy breakfast bar that grown-ups liked. He followed up with "Is it allergic to children?", and I laughed and replied that most kids weren't allergic to them, no, but that some might find them too dry. Did he want to try a piece? He nodded eagerly. I started to tell him that it was sweeter than it looked, expecting him to take a cautious nibble. Instead, he popped the whole chunk into his mouth and got to chewing. Obviously surprised, he slowed down the chewing pace and swallowed with difficulty. Then he pointed to the wrapper on the table and asked, with a hint of betrayal in his voice, "Why are the words written in chocolate?" That would explain it. Given the large dark brown font of the ALL BRAN lettering, Sam was counting on something a tad sweeter. And now he's learned there's no judging a snack by its wrapper.

Close Encounters of the Magnetic Kind

Now we're not saying that Magnetic Hill caused our breakdown: only that it's rather coincidental that we were forced to pull off the road in the vicinity of geological freak-of-nature. Our theory holds until someone points out that the phenomenon of Magnetic Hill is an optical illusion. The steam rolling out of the coolant tank was definitely not a trick of the eye. The Jetta was seriously hot. And it was a shame, given that Sam had snuggled into sleep and Jeremy was snoozing soundly and I was enjoying the drive--everything running smoothly with Plan A until the thermostat shouted PLAN B.

Having let the car cool down on the highway roadside and in a service centre parking lot (while we DQ'd it up. Sam's first taste of the hot eats and cool treats), we risked the 12 kilometre slow cruise to the next exit rather than calling a tow truck and taxi out from Moncton to deliver us all who knows where. With the engine light flashing and the 4-ways blinking, we winced against the possible slow murder of the family car, relaxing as we rolled into the ramblingest, roomiest looking Holiday Inn there ever was. No vacancy? Perhaps we looked like riff-raff? Jeremy rolled the car into one of their parking spots (after I took my foot of the brake: hey!? it's a driver's side reflex! I was tired..! and a bit dumb, yes) and we hurriedly gathered up a few supplies and the still-smiley Sammy and race-walked through the rain to the Comfort Inn up the street. Sam stayed up till 11 watching tv. He's lovin' the hotel life.

Jeremy was up and out before 7, hopeful of a quick diagnosis and fix from Canadian Tire. Sam and I played in our pj's a while and then moseyed about the place for fun and spent some time in strange, circular chat with Dolores, the Breakfast Room Lady. The child ate like a teenager, bringing muffins back to the room to enjoy with cartoons. Breakfast in bed: another luxury he could obviously learn to love. A few back-and-forths on the phone with Daddy and it became clear we'd be stranded in room 232 for the foreseeable future. After shelling out for Canadian Tire's confused shrug, he was having the car towed to the VW dealership. Maybe another night in town? Sam was okay with that.

We played hide & seek for entirely too long, considering that one's choices were in the tub or behind the bathroom door; Sam leapt from bed-to-bed like a maniac for a while, enjoying the surprising freedom of a mother who's not that concerned about bedspring longevity; we played pillow avalanche (8 feather pillows!), made goofy movies and watched disconnected little bits of this and that on The Family Channel. A benevolent manager tracked us down to give Sam a Comfort Inn bear, which he spent a good deal of time sitting on (I don't know why). In short, Sam behaved as tho this delay was as entertaining a pit stop as the zoo.

Jeremy arrived back at 1:00 with the news that VW would have the car ready at 3:00. Turns out the water pump was broken. In half. After he spent some time wrestling his keyed-up son and dog-piling him with every scrap of bedding in the room, we took our appetites to Don Cherry's and ordered up a lunch/dinner feast. Sam happily ate his weight in brownie sundae. As we were settling up, VW called us for pick-up: the Jetta was right as rain (and it was pouring rain). Other than the sketchy weather in places, it was a relatively uneventful drive home. Sam slept like a baby. And 10 hours after we picked up the route in Moncton, we were tucking him into bed in home-sweet-home. A really, really great summer holiday trip in the books.