One of the unspoken questions around the house is “Why is there a Batman kite on top of the fridge?”

The answer is simple; I put it there.

Now, I no longer recall the garage sale I attended that led me to purchase the kite in the first place, but I do recall thinking to myself, “Wow. I haven’t flown a kite in years. The kids and I should fly this kite the next time they are with me at my folks place.”

That was seven years ago.

Since then, the kite has rested on top of the fridge gathering dust and warranting questioning looks by those tall enough to notice. When the kids were here, I never noticed the kite. It was as if it chose to become transparent whenever a teenager’s voice sailed across the kitchen. Year-after-year, I transported the kids back to Tennessee and every time the kite changed its dull, beige color into a black and gray toy of excitement. It was mocking me.

Not this year. Finally, after many years of tormenting me, I caught the kite out of the corner of my eye and brought it down from the refrigerator and onto the kitchen table. I called the kids together. We gazed at its dulled plastic wrapping. We tore into it; ripping its thin plastic housing into shreds. We devoured it. It was amazing.

It was the middle of June and I didn’t care if wind wasn’t in the weather forecast. This sucker was going to fly.

We brought it outside and took it into the back yard. My daughter, Haley, had never flown a kite before. She was unsure how we were to launch it. She held it upside down and when she let go, the kite dropped to the lawn with a soft thud. I think the felt as if she had accidentally broke it.

After several attempts, the wind finally met our demands and began to blow with enough force to drive the kite skyward. In retrospect, I probably shouldn’t have allowed myself to fixate upon its final flight. It was rather disappointing. The kite kept turning over onto its side and pile-driving itself into the street. No matter how hard or soft the wind blew, the kite would return the ground-level with a loud crunch. After nearly twenty or so attempts at achieving any lengthy flight aloft, the Batman Kite had become so beaten that it threatened to shake itself loose from its tether.

Perhaps we’ll reinforce the seams with tape and glue. When it dries, the kids and I will take it back out and try our hand again. But, that may be five or ten years down the road.

Over the past several years, my son and I have been building model rockets and launching them towards the end of their time spent with me during the summer. Last year, we did not get around to launching any rockets, settling instead with filming a short movie titled “Plumbers, Androids and Chickens”, from a screenplay my son had written one feverish June morning in 2006.

In what can only be described as ‘sheer genius’, one of Jared’s 2006 Christmas presents was a rocket launching kit, containing a rocket launching stand, two simple and easily built rocket models, and miscellaneous hardware. This meant that we did not have to rely on my long-time high-school friend, Steve, to provide his own launching kit so we could set our own rockets ablaze.

This summer would be the inaugural launching of Fat Boy, the traditional short, stumpy, but-powerful Estes model rocket that so many other rocket enthusiasts have already sent straight into the sky. Jared had designed his own painting scheme for Fat Boy, deciding to drop the fin decals and settling upon a hot-pink and black color scheme that really sets the model apart from the others.

Fortunately, we did not have a single traumatic event as have traditionally had in the past. Last year, we lost two rockets, one of which pile-drove itself into the grass, while the other simply broke into two pieces mid-flight and getting lost behind a row of nearby houses.

The only problem this year was a lack of wadding in the three-year-old Big Bertha, which caused several of the parachute lines to break. This lead to a rather speedy decent to the groud after the ‘chute deployed. Fortunately, the long football field grass prevented Big Bertha from breaking a fin.