You got me. Except he really only has seven or eight superhero costumes. He’s more into ballgowns, but don’t tell the other boys. He only wears those at home. He’s afraid they’ll tease him. They’re already little furry jerks about the fact that I had a purse custom-designed to hold his 35-lb butt because he wanted to be a purse dog. Why, just the other night, I was putting his footie pajamas on him and getting ready to read him a bedtime story (his favorite is actually “Millions of Cats”, believe it or not…) when he looked at me and I could just see his eyes telling me, “Mom, it makes me very sad that I’m not allowed to go to kindergarten with the human children. Just because I’m a dog and so actually middle-aged at five years old and also really not capable of becoming literate or learning to write… does it mean I’m not as good?” And damnit, he’s right! That’s discrimination! I’m going to sue the school for refusing to teach my hairy son. I mean, I know, I know- “He bites!” blah blah blah whatever. Lots of kids bite.
My super paranoid girl would be another one rocking the tin foil beanie, but I suspect she would also be pleading for me to allow her to conceal carry as well. The world is scary after all! If not a gun, maybe Mace? If not Mace then surely a knife. When I vetoed everything she would dejectedly threaten the scary world with a damp piece of string (that she stole from the cat)