The Day I Became a Rocket Scientist

I went to a Top 20 Business school for my undergraduate degree. I went to a Tier 1 law school for my Juris Doctor. All of that education left me woefully unprepared for the morning my sweet Tatiman woke up in tears—because I had not purchased him “Rocket Jet Shoes” while he slept, and “How could [he] possibly fly now?”

The Tatiman is not much for distraction. When he says something, he is bound to repeat it. And not just once or twice; he has a card catalog filled with events from his short life, and he has no problem reminding you of every minute detail. When he was about 18 months old, I dared to open the door at his Mom-Mom and Pop-Pop's house before he was on the front porch. That was nearly 2 years ago...and he often reminds me of the time I almost ruined his life by opening that door before he got there.

So, I knew I was in for it. Big time. The Tatiman is the grandson of an actual rocket scientist. And the son of a man who designs flight simulators (who also happened to be away on a business trip during this entire saga). His expectations are high, to say the least. And I failed calculus, repeatedly.

I decided I needed to do something. I remembered seeing something in a Family Fun magazine about using tissue boxes to make dinosaur shoes. How different could Rocket Jet shoes be, really? I got to work during naptime—using construction paper, scissors, tape, and an entire glue stick. Forty-five minutes later I had some lovely Rocket Jet shoes, just waiting for the Tatiman to wake up from his nap. I worried, however, that my preschool quality Rocket Jet shoes would not live up to his MIT dreams.

After nap, I told the Tatiman that I had a surprise. When he came running down stairs I proudly held out the Rocket Jet shoes. They were green, just as he requested. He quickly put them on and hopped around oh so happily. I snapped pictures and posted them on facebook. The applause rolled in.

And then the Tatiman stopped jumping and said “These look a lot like tissue boxes.” Wah wah wah wahhhhhhh. “And they don't really work.” ….exhale. As much as I tried to convince him that he could use his imagination to fly, he wasn't buying my story. He did, however, humor me, and run around in his Rocket Jet shoes here and there for the next few days.

Tonight, on our drive home, the Tatiman was quiet for a moment. That is usually a sign that I should brace myself. This time was no different. “Mommy, I need you to build me a JET PACK because the Rocket Jet shoes did not really fly.”

Thankfully, Daddy came home tonight. Phew.