We ran into Indiana Jones at the mall in College Station. TX, this weekend. (Actually, he prefers to be called Dr. Jones, if you please.).
From the look on our grandson's face (I mean Dr. Jones' face) you can tell he was letting his imagination and his energy run wild in the play area. He has the whole garb -- the whip, the hat, the khakis, the Crocs (Dr. Jones does wear Crocs doesn't he?) and the case (do not call it a purse, handbag, satchel or anything like that, if you don't want to feel the crack of a deadly whip!).
This is his daily garb now. You are probably thinking that he got this as a Halloween costume. Actually, he got it before Halloween and began the daily drama immediately. When his mother went to ask him "Do you want to dress up as Indiana Jones for Halloween?" he was quick with the retort. "Mom, I AM Indiana Jones. You can't dress up for Halloween as someone you are!"
YOU probably would've known better thnt to ask that silly question. Wouldn't you? Never mind, I know you better than that.
My daughter is wondering where he got this drama streak. I was not brave enough to tell her that when she was just a little older than he is, she decided she was going to be the first kid astronaut. I decided I needed to "manage her expectations" in the parlance of today. I said very politely, "You know, Vicky, they don't have any kid astronauts."
She didn't miss a beat -- she popped a pose, arms akimbo and head bent in that "I can't believe what my dumb dad just said" way.
"Of course not, " she said "If they did, I couldn't be the first one."
Drama, it seems, runs in the family.
--steve buser
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