Bear was supposed to be a Medieval Lady. We were planning to curl her hair into ringlets and weave a gold ribbon through it. She would wear pearls and dangly earrings. Once she discovered that all her friends were planning to be Goths, or vampires, and various other scary types, she decided that Medieval Lady was lame. She came to me worried and anxious four days before Halloween.In a stellar parenting moment (that I plan to get much mileage out of), I suggested that since she ABSOLUTELY POSITIVELY WAS GOING TO WEAR THE COSTUME THAT GRANDMA LOVINGLY SEWED HER, that perhaps she would like to be a Dead Medieval Lady.
She paused.
She considered.
Her eyes lit up.
She thought I was the coolest mom ever. (That's the part I plan to remind her of frequently).
This is what we came up with:
That's her actual hair with the addition of an entire can of hairspray, followed by a liberal application of baby powder and leaves from the yard. She had to stand in the shower for about ten minutes to rinse it all out before she could even shampoo. We really COMMIT to our Halloween costumes around these parts.
Here's our entire Halloween crew. Bug and Bear have trick-or-treated with their friends C.(gangsta) and M. (Goth) for the past five years. In between houses, they plan what their costumes will be next year. Then they change their minds about thirty-seven times before the next Halloween.
We went back to their house for pizza and tiramisu (What? they're both Italian) . After supper, the kids all dumped their candy in the living room and swapped candy back and forth like little commodities traders ("I gotta Three Musketeers! Who wants it? Whaddya got? Nope, I'm not taking candy corn. Ya gotta Snickers?")
But the highlight of Halloween this year was the arrival of Uncle Awesome and Aunt Fabulous that afternoon. Of course, we dragged them both to Bug's class Halloween party and out trick-or-treating with us. They were very good sports, especially when bribed with tiramisu and peanut butter cups.
Over the summer, though, I watched the preteen begin to overshadow the little girl. Along with the obvious physical changes, came a heightened maturity, moodiness, and a sudden and complete aversion to waking up in the morning. There was dramatic sighing. There were requests to go to clothing stores. She shyly asked me to show her how to shave.
I've watched with equal parts amazement and pride as she's handled junior high with grace and maturity. Oh sure, we still have the occasional forgotten homework assignment, the inability to remember to bring home her gym clothes, and the exuberant bursts of silliness that reassure me that the little girl is not completely gone.
Bug's been pretty focused lately on the negatives of being the youngest in the family. She has an earlier bedtime than her sister. She's not allowed to watch certain TV shows that Bear does. She has to wear her sister's old winter coat instead of choosing a new one from the Land's End catalog. She practically writhed with envy last weekend when I let Bear borrow my cell phone to go ice-skating with friends.
And, no, that's not how I normally dress my child. She put on an old t-shirt of Daddy Shortbread's to paint earlier that day and then decided not to take it off. Ditto on the too-short sweatpants. Whatever.
To wit:
I had such a good time watching them enjoy each other. Daddy Shortbread would turn to retrieve the ball, only to have an ebullient Bug tackle him from behind. Two-square isn't normally a full-contact sport, is it?
