The scene is important here: picture me standing in the middle of (no kidding) more than a dozen loads of radically filthy laundry from the camping trip, wherein it rained non-stop for about 24 hours, rendering all that laundry damp, muddy and reeking of souring campfire smoke, not to mention that said
"Mamadah, will you please make me a superhero cape real soon?"
"Oh, cool! I want it red with orange inside, and the hood should be green. You're the best Mamadah ever! No, wait -- the whole thing green but with a red inside part. Can you make it tomorrow? Please?? Hey, I'm hungry. I want the cape to come down to here. Can you? Whoa, I'm really hungry! Wait, did I say that right? -- red on the outside and green on the inside. Got that? Can I have some food?"
Yes, son. Yes, son.
"You know what my superhero name is going to be?"
"And this is the sound I make right before I exhaust people!" (here he does a hypermega mondotronic superhero move that remotely resembles a prize fighter who's had too much Red Bull): "plaaaabthtrrrrrrrrgraaaaackerrraaaaaaaaa!!!!"
(So somebody tell me why we can't have Laundry Man or Cleaning Man or even I'll Make My Own Snack Man? I ask you. Why can't they be superheroes? They sound like superheroes to me. And I would make them all the capes they wanted. Yes, I would. plaaaabthhtrrrrrrrgraaaaackerraaaaaa, indeed.)