Back in the day, my children went through a stint of pretending they were all sorts of superheroes. One jumped off the six foot wall in front of our house because he was the Six Million Dollar Man, Steve Austin. Fortunately, we got away with some cracked bones in his foot. Another jumped in front of a car--in her bathing suit--because she was Wonder Woman. And we were blessed because the woman driving had quick reflexes and good brakes.
We had a spate of broken noses from the kids riding their big wheels off the picnic table when they were in their Evel Knieval stage. That wasn't nearly as bad as the time they decided to try to be the man on the flying trapeze only in their version they used a string attached to the overhead light.
Of course my favorite of all time was their stint as Davy Crockett after watching a movie. It was early Saturday morning. They were careful to protect the carpet by covering it with a heavy layer of newspapers. Then they built their campfire...
Around eight-thirty they woke us up because they needed help putting out the fire on the mattress. Now the hunk normally sleeps nude. And dousing the fire was his priority. So I still have a vivid mental picture of him racing through the house in his all-together with a flaming mattress which he tossed out the back door onto the patio.
Life was never dull.