Flying Shoes and Motherhood

So my son is on a big kick lately that he is going to invent flying shoes. He's serious.
"Do you really think I can do it Mom?"
"Wouldn't it be cool if I invented them as a little kid?"
"I could get to the bus stop in a microsecond!"

I, of course, am nothing but supportive.
"There's nothing you can't do if you focus."
"I would be so proud to be the mom of a kid inventor!"
"Why don't you just fly to school?"

Today he came in and immediately told me of all the naysayers out there. "Michael said you're just saying those things to be nice."
I wanted to punch Michael in the nose. He'll see what flying shoes look like then.
"All the kids at the bus stop laughed at me and said it was impossible to invent flying shoes."
Those bus stop kids? I'm not sure what their biggest ambitions are at this point, but I'm sure it involves manipulating their way into the latest DS game.

I am not going to dash the dreams of my seven-year-old, no matter what his dreams may be. I get to foster and support and nurture and encourage him because THAT'S my job. And if and when you commute to work in your flying shoes, you can thank me for believing in my kid. Everyone else can take the bus.