He can hit baseballs out of the park, coach for days in freezing February weather or 102 degree sun, if you put oranges in your water cooler it makes a difference, you know. But let him go too long without sugar and, lets just say hunger is his kryptonite.
As crazy as I was about him, I didn't even know his secret identity.
But then something happened, a miracle actually (but that is for another post) and we found out we were expecting. A baby shoe with an apple seed to show the size of our child the day we learned he existed and a poppy seed to show the size of his already beating heart. Twenty-one days wonderfully made and our child's heart was beating.
Superman became Mr. Safety, spending two hours in the car seat aisle before actually making a purchase. I am not kidding. He did the finger sticks to test the sugar in my blood and worked in his gymnasium office while I walked that sugar off at 10:00 PM. While I lay in a hospital bed recovering from a c-section, he changed tar-filled diapers, eventually becoming such an expert by our third child that he made a list of the supplies he wanted, forget cotton balls, you need industrial wipes for that stuff. I began to suspect that he was not to be taken for granted.