Aimee Horton



The first thing that my eldest son said to me this morning (after “I need a pooh”) was “Mummy, what on earth have you got on your legs?”

I’m fairly disappointed with this reaction, because I must admit, I thought that today I was fairly down with my kids.  I hadn’t even GUESSED that my outfit could have been construed as anything other then perfect.

You see, in case you hadn’t guessed, we are superhero addicts in this house.  By “we” I mean “they”, because to be honest,  I’d really rather not be dragged into the whole web shooting, cape wearing, green goblin pumpkin throwing, iron mummy, Peter Parker, Ben 10 alien rigmarole. However, they love it, so I have grudgingly embraced Marvel Comics, The Avengers, and old school Batman and Superman, and as Daddy Pig would say…I’m a bit of an expert.

Not only do I know my Peter Parker from my Clark Kent, my Ben Tennyson from my Tony Starks, and my Bruce Wayne from my Robert “Bruce” Banner, I know all the scripts to all three of the Toby Maguire Spider-Man movies, I can draw an amazing Venom, and let’s face it, my To Infinity and Beyond launching from the tree stump in the woods is pretty impressive…but I also have now been trained to audibly “oooh” at any merchendise which I come into contact with.  And it feels like we have it all. We have  super hero plates, pjs, clothes, dressing up costumes, masks, toys, sunglasses, hats, pants, plasters, cups, posters, DVDs, swimming shorts, rash vests, cars, paper, pens, pencil cases, crayons, you name it we have it.

Not that we need the merchandise while we shoot webs, jump off various bits of furniture (hmm), twist, turn and fall to the floor pretending to be hurt (I refuse to discuss “make dead” I’m not really into opening that can of worms again).

Just incase you didn't believe me.

Just incase you didn’t believe me.

So, when an email from ASOS landed in my inbox last week and a pair of leggings popped up, I was more excited then a 31 year old woman really should be.  I’d seen the Batman Bodycon dress, I’d wanted it, but I couldn’t see when I was going to wear it, and I’m not really one who could pull off a Spider-Man t.shirt elegantly.

But THESE bad boys, I wondered if I could pull them off, wear them for running in (when I start again), so with hardly any lots of persuasion from twitter I bought them.  They came, I tried on, I clapped, I loved.

Ready for some super hero running

Ready for some super hero running


So it would appear, even though my son looked at me in disgust, I am super excited about my super hero leggings.  Which begs the question, have my children moulded me?  Shouldn’t it be the other way around? After all, that’s why I chose their names, long names for highly paid businessmen, short cool names for sports personalities or a position in the entertainment industry…WHAT?! THEY OWE ME! I LET THEM DUNK THEIR BISCUITS IN MY TEA! 

Have you become sucked into interested in something you never thought you would just because you’re children are so enthusiastic about it? Or is it just me?