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Four: the arguments for

Several weeks ago Ben decided to change his name and asked that we address him as Superman.

Naturally, for Halloween he was...


...not Superman. (I'm pretty sure he's also wearing Spiderman underpants. All the bases covered, that kid. Job worth doing, worth doing thoroughly.)

But I'm in no position to cricitize; apparently my identity is also somewhat fluid. I didn't change my name when I married, which is kind of weird when you think how utterly surrendered I am in every other way, but when Superman says the word...

...I eagerly snort the pixie dust, even if he does have cartoons on his ass. Because he has cartoons on his ass.

And if he's yet to grow into his looks...


...hey, at four he's got plenty of time.