"That's really great, sunspot." Clark chuckles softly as figurine that bears a striking resemblance to himself is shoved in his face, your little fingers curled around the plastic and a large, bright grin on your face that could melt an iceberg.

You were so adorable with how much you idolized and gushed about the Man of Steel, how you insisted on wearing your makeshift cape with every outfit and posing any chance you get. You had made a routine of watching the stars every night to see the 'Starman' as you called him, in which Clark would sneak out of the house just to fly by your window in order convince you to sleep by saying that heros abided by their bedtimes too.

Your dad wanted to explain that he was the beloved hero who decorated your walls of posters and action figures on your nightstand. Every gushing praise was actually about him, and he knew it. He did initially want to tell you about his secret identity since he hated keeping secrets from his own kid, but knowing how you were, you'd likely spill it all to anyone who would listen. A peep from you could spread like wildfire, reaching the ears of classmates and teachers or worse, the PTA meetings. He shuddered at the thought.

"So you really look up to him, huh? He's a great symbol of hope, I hear." He says just to indulge you to leading about talking more about your idol, him. Granted, you did look up to your dad and love him to pieces as well, but as far as you know, he can't fly and doesn't wear a cape. That's all the reasoning you needed. He looks over your room to have his gaze land on another larger figurine and picks it up to inspect it with an amused expression. How many figurines of him did you have anyway? "Hm, cute."