So, my son is sitting across from me at Burger King. He just finished up his dinner and has unwrapped the new Iron Man toy. He winds it up and it sort of lurches across the table at me. Daniel looks at it a moment and then speaks for it.
“I’m sexy! I’m sexy!”
At that moment, Iron Man falls over. Daniel laughs.
I have to ask. “‘I’m sexy’? What do you mean by that?”
Daniel explains that’s what someone is when they are beautiful; like a girl. He further explains that it’s a synonym for “hot” (also as applied to girls). I’m not up on my Iron Man lore. I may have read a comic or two when I was younger. This particular version looks like he might not just be the spokesman for Burger King, but also a frequent client. Think of a really chubby Cylon.
So I ask again, “Why is Iron Man sexy?”
“Oh, he’s not,” Daniel replied. “But it’s funny. You see?”
I do indeed. I sit back and smile. My son has made two key discoveries. One, he’s discovered the innate hotness of girls. There’s nothing wrong with the other persuasion, of course, but I do want grandchildren eventually and I’ve been saving embarrassing material for the past eight years to show his date for the prom. Even better (at least to his Generation X father), Daniel has taken a larger step into the world of humor and discovered irony.