Ohio Moms Blog

Sensibility and Superheros

 At age three-and-a-half, my son has already been exposed to the influence of other children and it came packaged up like a superhero. The children at my son's daycare first introduced him to Spider-man, Batman, and Superman about a year ago, and he's been hooked on them ever since. It's something I knew he'd eventually stumble upon, but I wasn't ready for it quite yet.

I've supplemented his fascination with the occasional toy or shirt, but haven't moved much past that. We don't have cable, so if those cartoons are on TV, he's not watching them. I'm not familiar with superheros much past the "big" ones (Spider-man, Superman, Batman, Wolverine... etc.) And by familiar, I mean I can identify them when I see them. We haven't really checked out comic books yet--I'm still trying to hold on to Curious George (who he also loves dearly.)

But the other day, something happened that had me realizing that my days of avoiding the comic book superhero world are probably coming to an end. I sent him off to preschool in a new Wolverine shirt with some random other superhero players in the background. He deemed one of the secondary character's as "Captain America"--I went with it. I didn't know, so I said, "Sure! That guy is Captain America!" It kind of looked like Captain America.

The Smell of Winter

I currently live in Cincinnati, but I grew up in Northeastern Ohio, right on the edges of the snow belt. From November to March, it snowed. A lot. There would be times when the snow would melt away, but would always return full-force a few days, possibly a week, later. I have fond memories of playing in that snow.

The lack of snow during winter is one of the (many) things that surprise me about Cincinnati. I mean, I’m in the same state—how could the weather be so different? I moved to Cincinnati in January 2002 (ohmygaw has it been that long?), and it didn’t snow once that “winter.”

Over the years we’ve gotten a few big snowfalls—but the snow only seems to be on the ground for a few days, maybe a week at most, before it melts away again. This winter seems to be a little different, we’ve had a few “big” snows (nothing like the two or more feet my parents are dealing with), but it’s actually sticking around after this last snowfall. And this past week, I was reminded of a smell closely associated with my youth that I completely forgotten about: The smell of a smoke from a wood-burning chimney on a crisp, cold snow-filled night. I swear the scent is different when snow is on the ground. I was immediately transported to my youth—the long days of sledding, frolicking in the snow, making snowmen/forts/women/balls—and walking back to my house smelling that smell, knowing my parents would have a fire in the fireplace to warm the toes. (How quaint, right?).  I stood on my walkway and took some deep, cleansing breaths (as cleansing as smelling smoke can be) letting the memories and feelings wash over me.