James, Our Own Little Man of Mystery

James, The Fifth Son, is a bit of a riddle to me. A riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma, to be precise. Here’s the latest (hilarious and inscrutable) example.

I came home this afternoon to find him huddled over a pile of cardboard scraps — the remains of the display Sean had produced as part of his science experiment — with a Magic Marker clutched in each little fist. Head at near-table-top level, he was scribbling furiously away at something, but what exactly that something is was unclear.

Unperturbed (or maybe just incurious) I put it out of my mind, moving on to the business of getting lunch for the few boys — that’s right; plural — who had a) already had huge lunches, yet b) were faint from and even dying of hunger. (Second Lunch Mere Moments After the First is more than a charming nod to Tolkien in our house; it’s a terrifying and ever-present reality.)

A few minutes later, I happened across the following tableau.

For those among you to whom these are not instantly recognizable — in other words, everyone — let me (with a bit of insider baseball from James himself) explain. On the far left is The Man of Science. In the middle and very vibrant, The Man of Disguise. And on the far right, The Man of Evil. (That’s exactly how he described them. With as stentorian a voice as he could muster. “Look, Papa! THE Man of Science!”)

Not pictured above? A variety of appropriate accouterments he had drawn on the backs of each of the three: a collection of terrifying, scientific-y instruments on the back of The Man of Science; on The Man of Disguise, a spare disguise (of course); and on The Man of Evil, a jet pack. Unsurprisingly, because which Evil Mastermind would willingly step out without his jet pack?

I don’t quite understand why these three, seemingly-disconnected characters had struck his marker-scribbling fancy, but he was certainly pleased with the results. And the combination made perfect sense to him. Indeed, as I left for work, he had moved seamlessly from the creation of his oddly anachronistic trio to their habitats, huddled almost entirely inside a huge cardboard box on the living room floor, scribbling furiously away at something.

“Look, Papa! This is The Man of Science’s laboratory!”

I can’t wait to see what he’s got waiting for me when I get back tonight — one of the reasons why heading home to the Susanka Zoo after the relative safety of the office is always so easy. Never a dull (or predictable) moment.

Attribution(s): “The Terrible Trio” and “Who, Me?” courtesy of me.