"Martha, this is ridiculous."
Jonathan stood in the open doorway to the living room, watching his wife on the couch, their four-year-old son sitting happily in her lap. There was a pale British woman on the television holding an umbrella, her image paused on the screen. Martha turned her head to look over at him, clearly offended. "What's so ridiculous?"
"He can barely say cat, let alone supercalifragi – whatever!" Jonathan protested, hands on his hips.
"Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious," Martha corrected him quickly. "And he can so say cat."
"He said it once!"
"He hasn't seen a cat since then!"
Clark, his eyes wide and curious, looked from his mother to his father and back again, a confused frown on his face. Whatever these loud voices and strange words meant, he did not like them one bit. "Jonathan. If Clark can say this word, he can say anything. It's as simple as that."
Jonathan shook his head, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. "This sounds like one of your father's tricks."
She rolled her eyes. "I was eight when Mary Poppins hit theatres. I'm fairly certain I was already talking by then."
All Jonathan could do was continue shaking his head to convey his displeasure. Pleased by his silence, Martha turned back to her son, who was waiting patiently for her next move. "Okay, sweetheart, let's watch the scene again and then we'll give it a try." Clark merely nodded, with little understanding of what she was saying. She pressed play, and again they watched the scene where everyone was singing the 'ridiculous' song. Clark had always been fascinated by this particular scene – real people mingling with cartoons, real people riding fake horses. This very much boggled his poorly honed powers of reasoning.
When it was over, Martha paused the tape again, then shot a challenging look at her husband. "You just watch, he's going to get this. Maybe even on the first try."
"Sweetheart, you're delusional."
"Maybe." She shrugged, turning back to Clark. "Okay, honey. Can you repeat after Mommy?" Clark nodded. He would do absolutely anything Mommy asked of him. The same could not be said for Daddy. "Atta boy. Ready? 'Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.' Now, your turn."
Clark hesitated, squinting, as if trying to make the word appear in his mind. "Expialifragilocious."
Jonathan burst into infectious laughter, though Martha absolutely refused to look at him. Clark, however, appeared embarrassed. "It's okay, sweetheart, let's try it again. 'Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.'"
Clark, now more serious than ever, nodded curtly. "Calidocioussuperlistic…"
Martha turned back to look at Jonathan, who regarding her smugly, his arms folded triumphantly across his chest. "How's that workin' for you, smarty-pants?"
She glared back at him, but when she turned to her son, she was all smiles. "You're getting there, baby. Let's try it one more time. 'Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.'"
Clark took a deep breath, focusing with all his might. "…Super…cali…fragi…expialisticocious?"
Martha winced. So close. "Delusional, Martha Kent, absolutely delusional," Jonathan called out from his position in the doorway.
She sighed, unperturbed. "Oh, ye of little faith." After a deep breath of her own, she slipped her arms around Clark's little waist, pulling him back against her and kissing his cheek. "Okay, kiddo, this is it. For all the marbles. Let's prove to Daddy what an arrogant, faithless ass he is."
"Martha!"
"What?" She glanced over at him, eyes wide and innocent. "It's like you said. He can barely say cat, he'll never remember ass." She returned her attention to Clark once more. "Ready, kiddo?" He nodded. "All right. 'Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.'"
"Super…cali…fragi…" Both Martha and Jonathan watched him with baited breath. "..listic…expi…ali…doci-ass."
