We have entered the Super Hero Stage.

My children have each found a love for Superman, even though they have never seen a picture of Clark Kent or his alter ego. It's fairly instinctive, along with their fascination with bodily fluids and their new ability to point their fingers and make machine gun noises.

(Not exactly what we practice at home.)

Mostly, they love the action scenes. They each love donning one of Tyler's baby blankets around their necks, and then they run around the house, leap off the coffee table, and jump from the third step.

Tucker yells, "I'm Superman!"

Tyler, who has no idea really, yells, "I'm Soccer Man!"

Yesterday, The Superman of the two insisted on interviewing everyone in the house, to learn their real names.

"Mommy, what's your name?"

"My name is Tricia."

And with a flip of his cape, he shouted, "She's Tricia, and I'm Superman!"

Followed shortly by the red-headed copycat, "And I'm Soccer Man!"

Never a dull moment.