The Hand Waving Makes All the Difference

My kids are completely obsessed with Halloween. Which, okay, bags full of candy that their healthy-eating-pushing mother never lets them have, costumes, staying up late, getting to push doorbells and (especially for Cue, the two-year-old) open and close the door all night long. What's not to love?

The costume question has raged in our house for weeks now, fueled by the endless catalogs delivered to our door as a result of my slightly out-of-control Christmas catalog shopping. I have four kids, I don't get to browse stores much. The Halloween costumes in these catalogs astound me by the way. And, I've paid $40 for a roll neck sweater for my toddlers that was beyond-cute-to-heavenly, not-to-be-resisted, so I get being suckered in by adorable, but has anyone else seen the Cha.sing Fire.flies catalog? Who buys $100 kids' costumes with a $58 accessory package and how can I get invited to their parties?

Ess has known from Halloween obsession day one that she wants to be a clown. My girl. Easy, cheap and available at Shop.co. Gee, in his wonderful, love him for who he is, the turtle does not win the ever loving race it just slows the rest of us down until we go insane and keel over from a stroke and so it has no competition in the race because it has actually killed the competition, slow, deliberate manner, rejected every picture in every catalog, every suggestion, every possibility until his stroked-out mother resigned herself to Halloween pictures that include a pouting, un-costumed Gee. But oh, does he love to peruse the catalogs. My boy.

Imagine my surprise when his delightful, full-body bellow drifted up the stairs during quiet time.

Gee: MOMMY. MOOOOMMMMY. I WANT THIS ONE. MOMMMMMMYYYYYY. I. WANT. THIS. ONE. MOMMY. MOMMY. MOMMY.
Me: Yes, what one? What is the problem?
Gee: I want to be a pouf for Halloween. Right here. This one. A pouf.

Hmmmmm. Where to go here? That's not a nice word? Where did you learn that word? In this family we are accepting of all life choices (that are not actually criminal and hurtful to others)? I lacked all available information. I had to do the unthinkable and descend the stairs during quiet time.

Me: A pouf?
Gee: (wagging his tail with excitement) Yes! A pouf! A pouf!
Me: Show me said pouf.

The catalog had closed in the interim, so we sat on the couch and flipped pages, looking for the pouf. We missed it the first few times, but finally, near the back, he spotted the costume again.

Gee: There it is! That one! The pouf! Can I be a pouf, momma?



Me: Oh. (I waved my imaginary wand at an imaginary hat to produce an imaginary rabbit.) Poof! Like abracadabra alakazam, POOF!
Gee: (flourishing his imaginary wand spectacularly) Yeah, a pouf.
Me: Yes, yes you can.