Look, up in the sky … it’s a big kid!

Burt's Eye View

I didn't hear my wife come home until her voice cut me down in mid-flight: "What are you doing now?"

"I, uh … Research."

"You tied a blanket around your neck and you're running around the dining room singing, 'Da-dat-da-dum!'"

"It's a cape," I said. "And if you wish any hope at being successful, you'll wear one too. Or I could loan you my Spider-Man mask."

"Use your muscle to help unload the groceries, Superman."

"Underdog."

"Huh?"

"This one's my Underdog cape. My first superhero, back before kindergarten. I'm trying to become a genius."

Terry rolled her eyes. "What is it this time?"

"I'll show you. Quick, Robin, to the Batcave."

Terry followed me into the living room. "You built a bedspread fortress?"

I flipped aside the sheet covering the secret entrance and dove inside. I heard a sigh, the creak of rusty knees, and then Terry nudged in beside me. I handed her the newspaper.

"It's right here in the Daily Planet. See, this article on how to achieve and prosper says the secret is to think like a child." I thumped my chest. "I, madam, happen to be great at thinking like a child."

"That's for sure," Terry said.

"The real problem-solvers are the ones who let their imaginations run free, unfettered by the limits of reality. Just like when we were in kindergarten."

"You want their world to be run by a bunch of kindergarteners."

"Look at the decisions being made by our leaders. It already is."

"Well…"

"It's us kids, the Play-Doh set, who figure out how to get things done."

"Even if it's stupid."

I plucked my Wolverine mask from its secret hiding place. "That's the best part. We have no concept of what stupid is!"

"I noticed." Terry back-crawled out of the cave.

I bounded out, imaginary claws glinting and swooshing. "Teachers used to yell at me for staring out the window. 'Pay attention or you'll never make something of yourself.' Ha! Daydreaming IS working. I'm a superhero soaring to creative answers."

Terry considered this. "But wearing capes and masks, isn't that just a little bit juvenile for a business person?"

I unmasked and swung on an imaginary vine to wrestle one of my daughter's old teddy bears, now a savage lion. "The problem with thinking like a grownup is that when someone says a thing can't be done, you believe it and give up. A kid doesn't quit."

Terry nodded.

I gave a jaunty grin. "It's also awesome that 'Nuthin'' and 'I dunno' are perfectly logical answers. We don't have to make up excuses like grownup thinkers do. We just grab another set of Legos and build it again 'cause it might work this time."

"You told me that as a kid, you jumped off the porch because you thought your cape would make you fly. You're not going up on the roof now, are you?"

"Just 'cause you use imagination doesn't mean you're a dummy. But it does make life a lot more fun."

Terry reached for a towel and knotted it at her neck. "C'mon, Underdog, let's go fly those groceries into the house."

I swooped in for my Superman cape. "Up, up and away!" Sometimes, my crazy ideas work.

— The latest novel Cole dreamed up, "Bash and the Chocolate Milk Cows," releases to bookstores May 1. Write him at burtseyeview@tribtoday.com or at the Burton W. Cole page on Facebook.