The Story of Cowboy and Blue Jay

Our Halloween costumes are derived directly from what we're reading.

Over the summer, the boys were way deep into Robin Hood--the superior Paul Creswick version--and already plotting Halloween costumes. Cass would be Robin Hood and Ollie would be Little John. It was discussed so regularly and with so much vigor and unwavering dedication, I thought it was sealed. An easy year. A year of sprucing up the outfits they already wore -- new buckskin pants perhaps or renaissance knee-high mocassins! Then as Halloween drew closer, and Calico the Wonder Horse (or The Saga of Stewy Stinker) came into regular rotation, Ollie devised a way to sneak a gun into our peaceful (or at least gun-free) household. A cowboy isn't a real cowboy without a gun, he reasoned. Obviously.

And Cass decided that without Little John to boss around, he might rather be Thor. Or Thor crossed with Odin. Yes! Thor crossed with Odin! The Norse God of Thunder crossed with his father, the wise, all-seeing, one-eyed, long-haired ruler who has the wisdom of the jotuns and the Aesir. Not too troubled by the weirdness of this dichotomy, I went straight into creative development mode, dreaming up horned helmets, huge hammers and leather tie-ups. And the other little funny detail: Cass wanted big muscles. OK, I can do that, too. Plus, when it comes to the d'Aulaire kid canon, Norse Myths definitely comes pretty high on the list in our household. Just as I was really getting excited about this odd costume hybrid, he changes his mind -- completely! -- and wants to be a bird.

A bird. Silence.

"But Cass, are you sure? Thor is the GOD OF THUNDER! He can throw a hammer thousands of miles and it will come back to him. He goes fishing with the head of a steer. He's the strongest of all the Norse gods."

"Yes, but I want to be a bird."

"Odin can fly, too, you know -- on his horse. You like baseball. Thor has an iron mitt!"

"You said I should be what will make me happy, and I want to be a bird, because that's what makes me happy."

"But... the God of Thunder!"

"I love animals. I just have to be an animal. They are my favorite things in the whole world."

"Ok, fine."

We settled on a blue jay, and I got to work cutting cardboard feathers, painting them and glueing a bunch of felt triangles on cut-out wings. I wasn't super thrilled about any of this. And of course I wasn't finished by the neighborhood Halloween party the weekend before trick-or-treat. Even if I was, I probably wouldn't have let him wear it. I had serious doubts about its durability -- and wearing it a bunch of times takes the magic out of the real Halloween anyway. So the they both went as cowboys. Hank and Stewy.

As they were leaving, Cass said, "Mom, can I leave my gun at home? I really do not like guns." Ollie, who refused to wear his cowboy boots or his hat most of the time, happily brandished his weapon like some kind of crazed bandit holding up a parade of stagecoaches, making sounds like bang! bing! ding! whing! zing! pow! Stewy Stinker all the way, or Snake Eye Pyezon. Since then, though, I've tucked it "away" and he hasn't even noticed.

Next year, I am totally busting out Little Lord Fauntleroy and reading it exclusively for the entire month of October. Matching velvet cutaway jackets, knickers, fancy blouse, frilly collar, floppy bow. And since I just bought an authentic Victorian outfit at an estate sale, I can be Dearest!

Because it's been two months...

... and I cannot fathom he already looks different--taller? less baby?--than the day he started school this year. One thing that hasn't changed: that funny, fiery personality. He is so all of himself. If mad, then maddeningly mad. If happy, it's contagious and you are, too. He's shy but rarely scared, always up to something, his guts and spirit plastered all over his face. That irresistible, adorable face.

Busy Hands

A couple family members (you know who you are) have been asking/nagging/begging for me to update this thing. They're right. It's already into November, and I can feel the slow changes of little boys over a stretch of fall months happening in the lightspeed of retrospection. We've been so busy lately--everyday making, reading, climbing, learning something new--that I can barely remember any of it. There have been soccer games and violin lessons and learning to read, but if I'm not careful, I'm going to forget the the little jump after a scored goal or the huge proud smile he wore from the first page of A Kiss for Little Bear to the last. And part of writing it down is not just to remember the event itself, but to remember to be present, to enjoy it as it's happening.

This fall, I'm taking time to watch my kids. To observe outside the picture frame. I love to watch Cass concentrate. To sit and bear down on a creation full-force. The deliberate way his hand curls around a pencil, opposite from the way he pushes his hair back, the way he gets completely lost in his imagination and how he makes color choices--particular, intuitive, thoughtful. Cass loves to use his hands, and he's really good at it. He loves to draw and shape clay, and it might sound strange to non-Waldorf types, the kid is currently obsessed with finger knitting. I took him to the yarn store the day before yesterday, and after so much touching and admiring and great deliberation, he picked out two rainbow colored skeins and hasn't been without a strand of it trailing from his fingertips since. He also taught himself to whittle, although he didn't know the name of it when he started carving found little pieces of wood into shapes. After I gave him a little paring knife and taught him how to only carve away from his body, he made a crude bowl. He's so proud of it, and keeps refining it, hoping to give it to a friend for her birthday.

So began Art Wednesday, which I started to help give us some structure after school and a defined space for creative projects. Seed and bean collages, painting, leaf printing, pinecone art, Halloween decorating ("The Table of Terror"). Sometimes there are a few other kids, some days it's just us. Ollie loves the idea of it, but rarely stays focused--like any three-year-old--for longer than ten or so minutes. But he feels like he's a part of it, and takes just as much pride in the finished project. He's also really proud of his brother. I love it when he says, "Cassie made that" and beams. For all they fight (there's plenty of wrestling and hitting and occasionally even a bite or pinch), they're still each other's biggest supporter. Don't even think about taking the paintbrush from Ollie when Cass is around, even if he's not using it. Lesson learned.

Here, some photos of Art Wednesday from the past couple months.