Tactics of old,
Can apply in the now,
Little Prince
The Struggles of Maintaining a House While Educating a Stark Excerpts from the Diary of Edwin Jarvis
Tony, Age 6, just after returning from boarding school
11 of November
Young Master Stark vented verbosely in regards to the reading of, "An excessively long, convoluted poem. They've made it into a movie, right? Please say they've made it into a movie. One without all of the prose. I can sit through a movie. If it's playing in my lab while I build army barracks."
It is the child's fault for showing off his immense vocabulary and understanding of literature, his desire to prove his intelligence, that brought him to be in the position of reading and analyzingThe Odysseyat age 7. Had he wisdom, and not mere intelligence, he may have had the forethought to disguise a bit of his abilities, allowing for an easier time of it. Alas, he wouldn't be a Stark if it wasn't for his brashness, and ridiculous impulse to be, well impulsive. How else can I expect him to be, what with Howard spouting, "Ready. Fire. Aim." Pure ridiculousness.
12 of November
My head throbs. Anthony took to his homework with gusto today.
'If anyone unwarily draws in too close and hears the singing of theSirens, his wife and children will never welcome him home again, for they sit in a green field and warble him to death with the sweetness of their song.'Homer's Odyssey
Howard, a genius himself, understands his son, knows that unless the schoolwork begets entrainment, or holds purpose, it will hold no interest, resulting in the avoiding of assigned task in favor of his own interest and ambitions, such as what occurred at the boarding school. Thus, the daily homework assigned by Howard of, "How can what you learned today help improve the finances or technology of Stark Industries?"
Today, that meant blasting music, mostly rock, and deciding how to utilize each song to lure in clients, much as the Sirens in The Odyssey.
Roy Orbison's Pretty Woman seemed to be a favorite.
13 of November
The child took to the modeling clay today, designing a crew for the mock sailing vessel (a wooden bowl floating in a basin of water). It is -7C today, 18F in American, much too cold for a floating sea vessel to be played with in the out of doors. In retrospect, this recreation of a scene from The Odyssey should have taken place in the bathroom, in a proper bathtub. Alas, time travel is impossible, and lack of forethought struck the child again, whilst I was seeing to other duties. His nanny should have nixed such thoughts as: put a giant metal mixing bowl full of water on the living room floor; rather than be taken in by his pleading, doe eyes, leading her to give in by filling and carrying the thing for young Anthony.
I am undecided as to whether to fire her, as the task of tending to the child and finding her replacement would fall solely to me.
I digress, in addition to the spillage of copious amounts of water onto shag carpet, Anthony smashed his sailors, reformed them into the oinking pigs of the story, and then remade them again into the sailors they began as, and all along the way, allowed tiny bits of modeling clay to drift to the floor and be smashed into the fibers by rambunctious feet.
Rather than strangle the child, I insisted that he do the job himself of manipulating the bright colors from the beige shag, and sopping up the liquid. He, of course, wished to rush off andcreatesomething that would make the task less arduous. I, in turn, sent him straight back to the task he desired less, cleaning by hand.
Nanny Venessa was hired by Mrs. Stark, a favor for a friend's, friends, acquaintances, the least favorable way of choosing an employee. The young Ms. desired the position for its numerous benefits: room and board in a mansion, with myself, housekeepers, and a chef to tend to all but caring for the child, plus the potential bonus of free travel.
She appeared most disgruntled when I delegated, to her, the laundering of the sopped towels, but she chose not to vocalize her complaints, as this remains the cushiest nanny job available, particularly for one such as she who doesn't seem to have the spine to say no to young sir, instead, giving in, with no compunction, to the whims of pleading eyes.
Sigh. Is it proper to write a sigh in one's s own diary? All other emotions and thoughts go into it, so perhaps it is. And it is such a deep sigh, one of too many things to accomplish in the span of a day and regret that one of the child's no-nonsense nannies of years past was no longer here to curtail at least a few of his impulses.
I will have to give thought as to whether to seek another, or to divulge to her that she is the child'snanny, not his assistant, and as such, is to tend to Anthony's (and the house's) safety and needs, not to the child's whims.
14 of November
The child's literature tutor has no more sense than his nanny. Today, Professor Fillmore, acting as Circe, fought Anthony, a.k.a. Odysseus in mock battle utilizing canes as swords. Not that weapons in Master Anthony's hands is an oddity, but in the sitting room? Amongst expensive vases and glass figurines? The hapless nanny, whom I really must replace, spent the battle cowered under a table, as she was assigned to play the part of the captured sailors, the clay ones having been disposed of. Did it occur to none of them that toy soldiers would have sufficed?
"But Jarvis, Nanny Vanessa is an aspiring actress! I'm helping her practice."
Of course she is. If only she could act her way to being a halfway decent nanny, things may settle down around here.
16 of November
I am not an accountant. Nor do I desire to investigate as to the cost of various supplies. Mr. Stark, however, is all business when it comes to teaching his child the ins and outs of running S.I. Howard has established a homework protocol for Sir Anthony's projects. The child must complete business proposal paperwork before new supplies are procured and new projects started. Obadiah sent over samples.
The proposals must includecost analysis forms, blueprints, supply list, sales projections…Who is going to buy it? For what purpose?
Anthony and his math/science teacher have taken on most of this task, yet still, I found myself on the phone, inquiring as to the price of Styrofoam, amongst other items.
18 of November
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Though the noise has stopped, the alarm continues in my ears, just as the tones of the bagpipe reverberate in one's ears long after the music has stopped. There was no burglar, no smoke detector, just a 6 year-old, out of bed, attempting to access his science lab at 3 in the morning, Anthony, apparently having thwarted the newest key-lock. The noise had him scampering back to bed.
19 of November
Beep. Beep. Beep. All impulse, no thought to consequences. Not that the single smack, issued to a pajama clad bum, with the order, "Bed," from an irritated Howard was all that much of a consequence, but enough to have Anthony tearing up and following orders. Hopefully, for longer than a few nights.
21 of November
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Howard is out of town. Nanny Vanessa tried dragging the begging child back to his room, but instead, gave in. I found her dozing in a chair while he constructed metal army barracks, utilizing a soldering tool, which, sadly, Howard approves of the child using, but not at 3 in the morning with shaky, exhausted hands!
22 of November, Morning
It truly is Nanny Vanessa's last day. It seems, she dislikes being woken midsleep as much as the rest of us, and as such, provided Anthony with means of quietly accessing his lab. I discovered this when in need of a toilet at 4a.m. There was the child, assembling a plastic brick wall around a toy castle. The floor was covered with Styrofoam snow from the carving he had evidentially done in the wee hours of the night. I sent him off to bed, with the much more deterrent threat of grounding him from his lab if he failed to go to and stay in bed.
It is the child's fault for being out of bed at such an hour; but the blame for indulging his actions rather that enacting protocols or enforcing consequences belongs to his nanny.
23 of November
Anthony all but dragged Howard to see the toy castle, surrounded by a toy alligator infested moat, surrounded by a toy brick wall, backed by a Styrofoam mountain, apparently designed to be Stark Industries new security layout, to protect from intruders, much as Professor Tantaliage had told him was done with castles in centuries past. Or in modern cartoons, as seems more fitting to the addition of the alligators.
Howard politely rejected this proposal while explaining to the child that corporate espionage was a hidden danger, often much more challenging to prevent than cat burglars.
As I wrote, I recalled their conversation.
"Corporate espionage?"
"A few years before you were born, there was a scientist by the name of Anton Vanko. He helped design the arc reactor, stole the blueprints, and attempted to sell the designs to the Soviet Union. He was fired and deported. Though he assisted with the design, he played a minor part and was unable to re-create it for the Soviets. They exiled him to Siberia for his failure. Stark Industries' own employees are sometimes the greatest danger to us, and for the world at large. That sort of power could have turned a cold war hot."
24 of November
A new nanny has been hired.
25 of November
I swear I will purchase every copy of the Odyssey and joyfully run it through a shredder. Today's invention was an enhanced fan to act as the magical wind that blew Odysseus' ship across the sea. Only it blew my spaghetti. Everywhere. Red sauce sloshed across the stove and down to the floor, and red dots of it splattered the counters, wall, and even the ceiling.
The homemade noodles I was in the process of rolling, slicing, and hanging to dry, flew, temporarily latching onto my face, my apron, and the walls, before gravity pulled them to the ground.
Anthony does have a modicum of sense, and it told him to hightail it out of the house. Only a modicum, mind you, because it is November in New York, meaning cold, a foot of snow, and easy to follow footprints, to his shivering, coatless body.
Nanny Melissa did, so she says, have the sense to warn the child against testing his newest invention inside the house, but is not prone to being disobeyed so spectacularly whilst she relieves herself in the bathroom.
She gave me great assurance that Anthony would be spending his afternoon cleaning the mess he created and suggested that I make scares from the home, whilst retrieving a substitute meal from a restaurant.
Though the boy deserved a good bum warming, I decided upon another punishment he dreads. Anthony isn't against eating healthy foods, but beets and Brussel sprouts are not amongst those he enjoys. Whist the rest of the family dined on chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, corn, and chocolate cake, Anthony was resigned to one chicken leg, a pile of beets, and several of the round sprouts.
Typically, when I enact this consequence, Howard reinforces it with a stern look and an order of, "Eat." But Anthony, perhaps gaining an ounce of wisdom, decided it best to dutifully, and silently eat without hesitation, probably in hopes of avoiding anyone asking how he had managed to get in trouble this time.
27 of November
The shower, the freezer, the oven, every door I opened today led to another display of army barracks composed of different materials…metal, wood, Styrofoam, plastic. The smell from the oven was most acrid.
"But Jarvis, I only set it to 103F, to match the outside conditions in hot weather, and I didn't enter my lab, I promise."
As if the room itself was the issue, rather than the child being up in the middle of the night, unsupervised, experimenting with a hot oven.
As I disposed of the smoldering army barracks, he had the nerve to beg to be allowed to gather data as to the results of his experiment. I did not acquiesce. Instead, I awoke his sleeping nanny and had her watch him while he sat on the floor next to the acrid, airing oven, clipboard in hand, writing 100 times, "I will use a heat lamp, not an oven for my experiments."
It was decided that the shower could be used to test the barracks rain resistances, but at a more appropriate time of day and that a New York winter is plenty cold to be testing the wherewithal of barrack material to polar weather, rather than moving frozen goods to the refrigerator, where they had begun to defrost.
30 of November
I look out the window, and what do my widening eyes see, but an arrow whizzing by, and a 6 year-old-boy with bow in hand. I heard the thwang of the arrow striking the side of the house. My hands had grasped the window, but before I could open it and yell my two cents, Nanny Melissa had grasped the bow and taken it from the child.
Being as she was presumably the one to have set up the line of hoops for an arrow to shoot through, I was uncertain if she would attempt to help Anthony hide the evidence of this latest incident, but wonder of all wonders, she reported it as an accident and lapse of judgement for where to place the targets.
This little bout of physical education, was brought on by a contest of archery that takes place in the final chapter of The Odyssey. I am grateful to see its end.
Has it truly been less than a month since Sir Anthony's return from boarding school? The next few years will be a challenge, indeed.
Adult Tony, during The Incredible Hulk
The news replayed the days events, at nauseam. The Ear Blaster (sound wave generator) at least had some effect on the beautiful, green monster, creating air vibrations that made it difficult for him to stride against, unlike the bullets the soldiers seemed determined to waste. Tony's nose crinkled in recollection of his first attempt at a wind weapon and the hours spent wiping a kitchen clean of red sauce.
Adult Tony, Iron Man 2
Dad was right. Corporate espionage and under dealings could kick you harder in the ass than any burglar sneaking over a wall.
First, Stein, selling to both sides of the battle, and his attempts to murder me, and now Vanko, decades after the fact, trying to seek revenge for growing up broke, in a snowy climate. The guy has the brains to do what Vanko senior could not, re-create an arc reactor from blueprints, and a wearable sized one too, not the building sized one on the blueprints, and yet doesn't have the sense tosellhis idea. It's a seller's market and the dude instead decides to come after me with electronic whips and re-programed Hammer bots. The sensible choice would be to sell his inventions, take a bit of a financial hit for utilizing Stark Industry blueprints, then buy a bungalow in sunny Hawaii or on some non-extradition island.
But no, he comes aftermefor something our dads did before we were born. Would daddy Vanko have even meet mama Vanko if he hadn't been exiled to the ass end of frozen? I don't know and I don't care to investigate his family tree that deeply. I just care about kicking his ass and keeping Pepper and everyone else safe.
Adult Tony, mid-Iron Man 3
Corporate espionage isn't always a bad thing. Sometimes it's a solution to a problem. When I'm the one doing it, of course. And it's so much easier now than in the 80s. Honey Bear whines, but he's never been able to deny me. I don't even know why he bothers changing his password after he inevitably giving in.
Adult Tony, after Iron Man 3
It's a wonder, how things you've learned affect your choices without really giving thought to when you learned them. I'm certain I gave no thought to the mock security layout, made of a toy castle, guarded by a Styrofoam mountain and moat, I'd designed as a child when choosing to build on the California cliffs, along the Pacific coast. If it wasn't for a photo I doubt I'd recall even making it. But there is no denying that the cliffside home was built for security as much as aesthetics. It was too high to see from a boat on the ocean, and too far from the highway to be seen from the road. It was isolated, and had challenging terrain, and shark infested waters. It was not, however protected from air attacks. The crumbled walls cracked beneath my feet as I searched the rubble for DUMM-E, U, and Butterfingers.
Adult Tony, after Iron Man 3
Good thing time travel isn't real, or Jarvis, the version 1.0, the human version, would make his way to present day to kick my ass for encouraging the next generation, a.k.a. The Kid, to be like me. But I can't help it, Harley helped me out of some tight spots, he earned the right to a new lab and weapons to defend himself against bullies.
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I apologize for any inaccuracies in regards to references to The Odyssey. My knowledge of it includes struggling to help someone with their homework and a 10 minute YT summary, much like the video Tony wished he had.