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!
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!
posted by meghan at 7:58 PM
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