by:
Robbie Fatone Ever since before I was born, my father has had an obsession with Superman. He has been collecting memorabilia for as long as I can remember. One of his most prized collectibles was a record of the original score from the old Superman movies with Christopher Reeve.
Dad has always told me never to touch his Superman collection. He always kept it on a high shelf, "out of reach of children." His collection was safe, until I was five years old.
I had seen dozens of recorded performances of my dad and four uncles. I pretty much knew all of their choreography by heart.
One day, trying to show off for my older sisters (who were seven at the time), and unaware of my father's observation from the doorway, I began to sing (horribly off-key) and dance to "I Want You Back," one of *N Sync's most popular songs. At one point I flung my foot up into the air for a karate kick. I performed it perfectly, except for one minor detail - at the time, as a five-year-old, my shoelaces were always undone. My sneaker went flying off my foot.
My sisters and I stared in horror as my shoe made an arc in the air and smashed into my father's collection, shattering the record.
We heard a slightly strangled scream from behind us. We turned to see our father gasping for air as if someone had hit him with a lead pipe. My eyes widened in fear as I realized he had seen the whole thing.
Being a five-year-old, I did the first thing that came to mind. I began to cry. Unlike most times, when I would get sympathy from crying, this time Dad was really mad!
After a moment, when his face wasn't quite so red, he whispered, "Iris, Isabelle, I'd like to speak to your brother alone."
My twin sisters nodded solemnly and walked quietly out the door. For a moment, Dad just stared at me. The room was as silent as a tomb.
"What have I told you about playing in here?" he said gravely.
"You told me not to, sir." I whimpered.
"And why did I tell you not to?"
"Because I might break something." My lower lip began to tremble.
"You know you're going to be punished for this, don't you?"
I nodded pitifully. "Yes, sir."
"Go to your room while I think about your punishment." he whispered.
I nodded and walked quietly out of the room, steering clear of him.
* * * * *
I went to my room and closed the door. I felt so bad, not only because I was most certainly going to be punished, but because I had broken my father's album.
I crawled under my bed and dragged out my giant box of crayons and a package of construction paper. I grabbed my scissors off my desk and my round waste basket.
I placed the waste basket in the middle of a sheet of black construction paper and traced it. I cut out the circle and poked a hole in its center. Then I got a sheet of white construction paper and a CD. I traced the CD onto the sheet of paper exactly as I had with the waste basket and cut it out. I pasted the white circle in the middle of the black one and poked another hole. Then, in red crayon, I sloppily wrote "Superman" onto the white circle in my five-year-old handwriting. Then I drew a terribly messy version of the Superman emblem underneath it. I hoped it would make Dad feel better.
Just then, my door opened and my father came in. "Robbie?" he said harshly.
I cringed a bit, then held out my homemade record. "I'm sorry I broke your record, Daddy. I made you a new one."
Dad's angry face softened. "Oh, Robbie. Thank you."
I smiled a little bit, then said, "You're welcome, Daddy." There was a small glimmer of hope in my voice begging my father not to punish me.
"I'm still going to have to punish you, though." he said. "You do understand that, don't you? It's not because you broke my record, but because you disobeyed me."
I nodded and hung my head, and my father scooped me up into a big bear hug.
* * * * *
I ended up having to do extra chores. It wasn't fun, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been. I think my record helped!
* * * * *
I learned two lessons that day: one, never ever play in Dad's Superman Room, and two, ALWAYS TIE YOUR SHOES! ~
Move on to Maggie's story.
