“She wants to dress up as Rainbow Dash for Halloween,” I explained to my wife about our four-year-old daughter’s request for a costume.
“What the hell is a Rainbow Bash?” she asked.
“Okay, first of all, it’s Rainbow Dash, not Bash,” I said in the tone of a petulant five year old. “A Rainbow Bash sounds like the after-party of a Pride parade. Rainbow Dash, on the other hand, is a Pegasus.”
“A what?” she asked.
“A Pegasus. A horse that can fly. They’re one of three species of horse that populate Ponyville.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
I inhaled. “Ponyville is a town in the land of Equestria. Canterlot, of course, is the capital city of Equestria. Anyways, Ponyville is where Princess Celestia sent Twilight Sparkle, her prize student, to study and learn from the interactions among the residents and thus learn more about interpony relationships.”
“I understood four words from what you just …
When my son was a new adolescent, he was still willing to hold my hand, accompany me to the movies, and join me in a friendly board game.
This period of acceptance preceded his teenage years, when he naturally attempted to assert his independence–never to be seen in public having physical contact with his mother, never to willingly discuss any detail of social events involving girls, and never–NO NEVER–to wear any footwear other than flip-flops.
When the flip-flop phase began, I expected it to be just that–a short-lived period. I was certain that when the leaves changed color and began to slowly disappear, so would the flip-flops. As happens each year, the weather grew colder and the first flakes of snow fell; the flip-flops, however, remained a constant. They nestled on the mudroom floor between the sneakers, cleats and, eventually, snow boots of my other children.
Initially, I urged my son to wear …
I believe I have a good fashion sense. I have clothed all my children without someone questioning my taste. Even my own clothing has earned occasional positive reviews.
So I wasn’t prepared for my children to rebel, making shopping a grueling nightmare. I’ve had more fun at my yearly OB/GYN visits.
My thirteen-year-old son refused to wear …
Happy Halloween! A photo of my girl taking 2nd place in the school Halloween bake off with her “Zombie Monster Pumpkin Creation,” aka Cake.
When my biracial (white/black) daughter was a baby, I once casually mentioned to her dad that I’d like to dress her as Snow White for Halloween. He rolled his eyes and scoffed, “You can’t dress a black child as Snow White!” He was joking, mostly.