He was last seen at our house shortly after Wyatt’s birthday last year.
Batman arrived with a child’s version of the Gotham City Jail and was accompanied by several villains going by the names of Penguin, Joker, Riddler and Bane.
Several weeks later, Wyatt was playing with this motley crew when he realized there was no Dark Knight to prevent a jailbreak.
“Where’s Batman?” he asked.
I should note here that members of the Cohron family are not good at keeping up with things.
Hardly a week goes by that I don’t find myself stumbling around our house in the morning looking for my glasses. This task is made more difficult by the fact that I can’t see an inch in front of my face without my glasses.
Of course, if I had my glasses to help me make out all those shadowy figures, then I wouldn’t need to search for my glasses. Such a vicious cycle.
Zac and I frequently have to ask each other to call our phones because we can’t remember where we left them. Thankfully, we’ve never misplaced our phones at the same time.
Several years ago, I dropped my wallet on the Bevill State-Jasper campus. I was already in a vulnerable state of mind from attending the funeral of a former coworker hours earlier.
Knowing that my license, credit cards and other vital information were potentially in the hands of a stranger sent me over the edge.
When I got back to work, I learned that a kind professor had picked it up and called the office after noticing my press badge (the only time that has ever been useful, by the way).
I am currently having a minor dispute with my mother over a pair of Wyatt’s pajamas that she insists are at my house even though I haven’t been able to find them in any of the usual places.
Since Zac and I haven’t set the bar of responsibility very high, it’s no surprise that more of Wyatt’s toys have gone MIA in the past three years than I care to count.
Our house is like a little Bermuda Triangle. Some things that go in there never see the light of day again.
Zac and I only speak of these poor toys in hushed tones long after Wyatt has gone to bed lest he remember he once had them and start asking for them again.
I never expected Batman to become one of our victims, though.
Life went on without him for a while. Wyatt accumulated a collection of Justice League figures and then branched out into the Avengers.
The epic battles our son waged with his comic book hero friends just weren’t the same without the Caped Crusader.
A few months ago, we bought Wyatt a replacement Batman.
Zac and I refused to give up hope on his twin brother. We were sure that some day when we are old and gray we would be cleaning under a piece of furniture or in some obscure corner of a closet and there he would be.
Batman II also disappeared under mysterious circumstances. At that point, I began to suspect a conspiracy because none of the villains were going AWOL, only Batman.
A few weeks before Christmas, Zac was going through a box that has some of his baseball card albums in it and was surprised to find Batman I hiding in there.
We all agreed that it would be nice to still have the spare, but one Batman was better than none.
Then Wyatt came to work with me for a few hours one weekend and brought his bag of superheroes. All of them made it back home except one. You guessed it — Batman.
I picked him up out of my floor first thing Monday morning. If toys could talk, that little guy would have some tales to tell, and none of them would be very complimentary of the Cohrons.
The next day, I was pulling out all of the action figures that Wyatt had crammed into the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’ van, otherwise known as the Shellraiser. It turns out Batman II had been in there the whole time.
Victories are few and far between for mommies sometimes, and I wanted to revel in this one.
“Wyatt, I found your both of your Batmans!” I said as enthusiastically as I have ever announced anything in my life.
Wyatt didn’t even look up.
“Mmkay. I’m playing with my Turtles now.”
My son might not have cared, but for one brief shining moment, I felt like a hero too.