Hey look! I'm LIKEABLE, dammit! Likeable! I'm having a hard time refraining from typing a riff on Sally Fields' Oscar speech that includes the word "cocksuckers." But you're all probably imagining it now anyway. So there. I'm done here, let's move on!
So. Noah. Costumes. Playing dress-up. Not at all a thing he enjoys. We successfully got him into a costume last Halloween at the 11th hour when he suddenly realized that Mommy and Daddy weren't playing: There was free candy to be had if you wore one. Okay Earthlings, I will indulge you this time in your strange fun-sized candy-procuring middle-man ritual. THIS TIME.
Afterwards, though, whenever I mentioned next Halloween, he would do some kind of dramatic fainting-couch thing and announce that he was NEVER DOING THAT AGAIN. NO. NOT EVEN.
Time went by, and he seemed a bit more open to the idea -- probably because in the wake of us cracking down with a righteous vengeance on food dyes in his diet, he's figured out that Halloween is his once-a-year window to fuck up his nervous system with all the Red 40 and Yellow 5 he wants because CHILDHOOD IS AWESOMMMMMME -- but he said he would only wear the same blue monster costume from last year. Which was actually purchased (and rejected) the year BEFORE, and was already a size too small when he wore it.
If I told him that I was sorry, that costume doesn't fit, we'll need to find another one or something different...back to the fainting couch he went.
Over the summer, there were a number of little girls at his camp who loved to play dress-up, and the classroom had a wide variety of fairy wings and tutus and tiaras that they favored, but seeing them dressed up would send Noah into total meltdown mode, with screaming and sobbing and...well. He really, really didn't like it, to put it mildly.
So you can imagine my shock when one day this past weekend, out of the blue, Noah donned Ezra's bathrobe, declared it a "cate" (cape) and started calling himself Obi-Wan Kenobi:
He wears it everywhere and all the time -- except right after bathtime, when Ezra starts shrieking MINE MINE MINE because it is, in fact, a size 24-months and HIS HIS HIS -- I've even caught him wearing it to bed a couple nights, sweating profusely but sleeping peacefully, with a lightsaber fashioned out a Tinker Toy tucked in his hands, under his chin.
I've always listened to other parents' stories about the wacky things their children insisted on wearing day after day or the crazy outfits they proudly assembled for themselves and felt a little twinge because Noah has never been that kid. His clothing preferences begin and end with what I pull out of the closet every morning, provided I conceal the fact that anything might be "new" by ripping off tags and hiding shopping bags. We buy him Star Wars shirts because we think he'll like them, but I'm not sure he really notices them all that much. Part personality, part other issues, who knows, but oh, I love the sight of other kids who think rainboots and pirate hats and bumblebee wings are perfectly sensible day-to-day ensemble.
I let him wear his cate to OT yesterday, because why the hell not, and his therapist's confusion quickly melted into laughter when she realized just what he was wearing, and then to a triumphant fistbump with me when it dawned on her that he wasn't just wearing a bathrobe, he was wearing a costume. That he'd come up with all by himself. We got a couple WTF looks from other parents in the waiting room, but I honestly could not have been more proud, as I watched my kid run around with his Baby Gap microfleece freak flag high.
"I love Thursdays," she laughed.