I was on the streetcar with the kids Friday morning, taking them to school. As usual, the boy was filling my brain well beyond its capacity for all things Lego-related. He switched tracks a little (because it came out of a discussion of Lego Batman minifigs) to say, “You know, I’d really like to interview Bob Kane to learn from him directly about his ideas on where the Joker originally got his face scars.”
I paused. I was fairly certain I knew who he was talking about, but I admit to being taken aback by his statement.
“… And who is Bob Kane?” I finally asked him.
He looked at me like I had forgotten a major component of my brain on my bedside table that morning. The man beside me on the streetcar said, “He created Batman.” The two men beside him (we were in the back) were snickering in agreement, amused by the conversation taking place before them.
Okay, so now we’ve established that not only is my child a big giant comics nerd, but so is everyone on the back of the streetcar.
I replied, “Yes, I know that, but I’m trying to figure out how my 9-year-old, a self-avowed Marvel guy, would know that.”
My boy looked up, as close to my eyes as he generally gets, and said, deadpan, “I read credits, mom.”
That’s my boy.