i wanna be a pirate!
After Halloween last year I bought two costumes for $5 each at Walmart. I was pretty proud of my bargain hunting. Jordan and Tennyson have been waiting all year to wear their butterfly and pirate costumes.
Last week one day we finally brought out the costumes to make sure everything would fit before school parties, diaper gym, and Halloween night arrived. I dressed up all four kids in their costumes. Tennyson was a pirate, Jordan a butterfly, Mitchell a kangaroo and Elliot was a little purple dragon. They were pumped. They got into character right away; Jordan flapped, Tennyson “aarrgged”, Mitchie hopped, and Elliot, well Elliot wandered around looking cute.
A few minutes in, Mitchie asked in his cute little Mitchie-voice, “Where’s my pirate costume?”
This keeps happening. A few weeks ago we went into the city to buy the older two kids new winter coats and snow pants. They all played in the racks and the younger two were pretty much oblivious to what was going on until it was time to pay. As I put the jackets on the counter I hear Mitchie’s little voice ask, “Where’s mine?” Serious Mommy Guilt. Yet, the smart, economical thing to do is hand down jackets to the younger kids. So why do I feel so bad about it lately? Probably because he looks so dang disappointed. From there the older two each got new skates. He didn’t really notice that part.
Fast forward back to the beginning of my story. “Where’s my pirate costume?”
“Mitchie, you’re a kangaroo! Kangaroos are awesome! Look, there’s a baby kangaroo in your pouch!” I’m not sure which is worse, seeing your brother in a pretty cool pirate costume, knowing that yours was dragged up from the basement, or realizing that your kangaroo is actually a new mother.
“But I don’t want to be a kangaroo. I want to be a pirate!”
“Mitchie, I don’t have a pirate costume for you. But your kangaroo costume is awesome, it’s the best costume!”
“No. I don’t want to be a kangaroo. I want to be a pirate.”
“Let’s make a deal. Next year when you’re four I’ll buy you a brand new costume, and Jordan and Tennyson will have to wear theirs again, but you’ll get a new one, okay?”
“Okay!”
Apparently, next year meant three days later when it was time to get dressed for a community Halloween party.
“Okay guys, time to get your costumes on!” The older two scurried into their costumes and Elliot woefully allowed herself to be stuffed into the stuffed dragon again. Mitchie sat on the top step of the front entrance, as slumpy as could be with his little chin resting on his chest and the most hang-dog expression on his face you ever saw.
“I’m not going. I’m staying home. I wanna be a pirate.”
“But I don’t have a pirate costume for you.”
“Then I’m staying home.” Apparently at three you can stay home alone.
“You’re not staying home. You are the best kangaroo ever! You have to be a kangaroo, this is the only costume we have for you right now.”
He put on his shoes and jacket and stomped out to the van, with as much stompiness as his 33 pounds would allow.
When we got to the hall Steven held out the kangaroo for Mitchie to step into.
“I’m not wearing it. I wanna be a pirate like Tennyson.”
“We don’t have a pirate. Put this on,” said Steven.
“I don’t want to.”
“You have to wear the costume or they won’t give you the goodie bag.”
The thought of missing out on candy was enough to get his little self into the kangaroo.
Fast forward again to Monday morning, and our dress-up day at diaper gym. Apparently this was a year later, because as we’re getting ready to go, Mitchie excitedly exclaims “Yay I’m going to be a pirate!”
“Mitchie, I don’t have a pirate costume, are you sure you don’t want to be a kangaroo?”
“No. Pirate.”
Sad face.
This is where my mommy guilt amped up. It was Halloween morning. Either I was going to force the kangaroo costume one more day or I was going to cave.
I caved. Off to Walmart we went before diaper gym started. I didn’t promise him one way or the other, and I had the kangaroo costume in my van, but I figured I’d at least go and see what they had. I flipped through the costumes on the rack. Everything was anywhere from $25 to $40, except one slightly cheaper $15 costume. Guess what it was.
There was one left, and it was in his size. Mitchie ended up being a pirate after all.
Last week one day we finally brought out the costumes to make sure everything would fit before school parties, diaper gym, and Halloween night arrived. I dressed up all four kids in their costumes. Tennyson was a pirate, Jordan a butterfly, Mitchell a kangaroo and Elliot was a little purple dragon. They were pumped. They got into character right away; Jordan flapped, Tennyson “aarrgged”, Mitchie hopped, and Elliot, well Elliot wandered around looking cute.
A few minutes in, Mitchie asked in his cute little Mitchie-voice, “Where’s my pirate costume?”
This keeps happening. A few weeks ago we went into the city to buy the older two kids new winter coats and snow pants. They all played in the racks and the younger two were pretty much oblivious to what was going on until it was time to pay. As I put the jackets on the counter I hear Mitchie’s little voice ask, “Where’s mine?” Serious Mommy Guilt. Yet, the smart, economical thing to do is hand down jackets to the younger kids. So why do I feel so bad about it lately? Probably because he looks so dang disappointed. From there the older two each got new skates. He didn’t really notice that part.
Fast forward back to the beginning of my story. “Where’s my pirate costume?”
“Mitchie, you’re a kangaroo! Kangaroos are awesome! Look, there’s a baby kangaroo in your pouch!” I’m not sure which is worse, seeing your brother in a pretty cool pirate costume, knowing that yours was dragged up from the basement, or realizing that your kangaroo is actually a new mother.
“But I don’t want to be a kangaroo. I want to be a pirate!”
“Mitchie, I don’t have a pirate costume for you. But your kangaroo costume is awesome, it’s the best costume!”
“No. I don’t want to be a kangaroo. I want to be a pirate.”
“Let’s make a deal. Next year when you’re four I’ll buy you a brand new costume, and Jordan and Tennyson will have to wear theirs again, but you’ll get a new one, okay?”
“Okay!”
Apparently, next year meant three days later when it was time to get dressed for a community Halloween party.
“Okay guys, time to get your costumes on!” The older two scurried into their costumes and Elliot woefully allowed herself to be stuffed into the stuffed dragon again. Mitchie sat on the top step of the front entrance, as slumpy as could be with his little chin resting on his chest and the most hang-dog expression on his face you ever saw.
“I’m not going. I’m staying home. I wanna be a pirate.”
“But I don’t have a pirate costume for you.”
“Then I’m staying home.” Apparently at three you can stay home alone.
“You’re not staying home. You are the best kangaroo ever! You have to be a kangaroo, this is the only costume we have for you right now.”
He put on his shoes and jacket and stomped out to the van, with as much stompiness as his 33 pounds would allow.
When we got to the hall Steven held out the kangaroo for Mitchie to step into.
“I’m not wearing it. I wanna be a pirate like Tennyson.”
“We don’t have a pirate. Put this on,” said Steven.
“I don’t want to.”
“You have to wear the costume or they won’t give you the goodie bag.”
The thought of missing out on candy was enough to get his little self into the kangaroo.
Fast forward again to Monday morning, and our dress-up day at diaper gym. Apparently this was a year later, because as we’re getting ready to go, Mitchie excitedly exclaims “Yay I’m going to be a pirate!”
“Mitchie, I don’t have a pirate costume, are you sure you don’t want to be a kangaroo?”
“No. Pirate.”
Sad face.
This is where my mommy guilt amped up. It was Halloween morning. Either I was going to force the kangaroo costume one more day or I was going to cave.
I caved. Off to Walmart we went before diaper gym started. I didn’t promise him one way or the other, and I had the kangaroo costume in my van, but I figured I’d at least go and see what they had. I flipped through the costumes on the rack. Everything was anywhere from $25 to $40, except one slightly cheaper $15 costume. Guess what it was.
There was one left, and it was in his size. Mitchie ended up being a pirate after all.
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