Ironman is my step-son. I don't use the real names of either of my stids (step kids s too long to type)because in case a mouth breathing crazy ass inbred killer is reading this blog..I don't want their names known.
I call him Ironman for a few reasons. First, I liked the movie, more than I thought I would. Also, like the character Ironman, my Ironman is strong and tough but kind and helpful. He's got a huge heart, my Ironman.
He's built strong like his dad, and is naturally protective and endlessly patient with his older sister, who although much smaller, picks on him, and he takes it. He takes it not because he's a coward. He's the farthest thing from it, he puts up with it, because she's fun and silly and they have learned how to get along with each other and not hurt one another.
My two stids, Ironman and Pinkie have the relationship between the two of them that I wish I would have had with my older brother.
Suffice it to say that I love my Ironman. Last week at church he was not a happy camper. And I didn't know how to help him. I would have listened to him, and I'm on his side no matter what. But how do I get him to talk ?
I will pray on that. Because if he's hurting I want to know why, and I want to fix it, and if I can't fix it I want him to know that I care.