My heart is being attacked, but it’s love; hopefully I’ll survive until Christmas.
We walked into the store for something.
Not for costumes or battle axes or hockey masks.
But the Halloween assault was already eeking out a few extra days
and extra dollars and extra shelf space in mid-September.
High on the list of things I would ban as world dictator would be premature holiday celebrating, unless it's singing Christmas songs in July.
We walked into the store for something;
And he did what every ad agency wants every child to do when they see something they never knew they needed: massive intake of breath with the sudden realisation, viscerally, immediately, absolutely, that they now need something worse than they've ever needed anything in the history of forever. Because it is there. And it wouldn't be there unless they were supposed to have it. It has moved from non-existence to awareness to oxygen-level NEED in the space of three seconds.
DADDY, LOOK!
he pointed and pleaded and floated in the air as the Frankenstein heads and superhero capes and dangling skeletons and bloody plastic swords reached out their invisible tentacles to pull him in; and pull out his parents' wallets.
Yep.
I said.
Cool costumes.
:hyperventilation
Can we look can we see them did you see the sword can we please just look real quick oh look daddy can I show you something can we look?
After we get school supplies,
I said.
We will look for a few minutes.
Okay.
he said.
A short while later, we ended up there, admiring face paints and synthetic purple hair and $6 fishnet stockings and enough plastic facemasks to give Zdeno Chara nightmares. We found ourselves at an end display filled with plastic tridents.
LOOK!
he squealed.
Can you pull one out so I can hold it?!
Buddy.
I said.
We're not getting a trident.
Okay.
he said.
But can you take a picture of me holding one?
Buddy,
I said.
That's a great idea. Unfortunately, my phone is dead, so I can't.
That's okay.
he said.
Can you just LOOK at me holding it then?
Buddy,
I said.
Of course.
So I watched him holding the cheapest-made little trident you've ever seen; happy little Poseidon testing out weaponry.
Daddy,
he turned to me.
When we get home can I start making my costume? I'm going to build a trident and superhero armor. Or maybe superhero ninja armor.
Buddy,
I said.
Absolutely.
We got home;
zero time waste as he assembled his tools:
scissors
construction paper
needle
thread
blow torch (just kidding)
marker
fabric
and went to work.
It will be an ongoing project.
This is his first piece of armor.
If you're finding it a challenge to decipher the lettering, it says (he says):
"Armor,"
so that any potential enemies will know what he is wearing.
A deterrent, which I personally think is rather Sun Tzu-savvy. Stylish, functional, one-of-a-kind.
What inspired you to build your armor like this?
I asked.
I got the idea,
he said.
From the store.
Well,
I thought.
Perhaps premature holiday displays do have their place.
Cheers for inspiration in hideous places.
Buddy,
I said.
I'm going to hug you.
And I did.
Then we fought
and he wore his armor.
He survived.
To survive another day is to succeed at something.
Here's to success.
