My 11-year-old son’s school’s “fall festival” (we can’t celebrate that satanic travesty known as Halloween, no sir!) is tomorrow, and it’s now about 11:30 p.m. and I’m STILL working on his costume!
When I was a kid, my mom made us fabulous, creative costumes. When I was maybe 4 or so, I accompanied my older sister to her Catholic school Halloween party. We went as Mortal and Venial Sin. The nuns loved it. We won a prize.
Anywhistle, since he’s been old enough to go out trick-or-treating, I’ve made his costumes. The past few years, it’s all about video gamees. Last year he was Luigi.
This year, he chose to be Riku. When he showed me the image, I said, “I’ll handle the costume if you’ll take care of developing those biceps!”
So, even as I’m whining, I’m thinking that there may be one or two years more of this, at most, and then he’ll be a too-cool middle schooler and want none of it.
When it’s done, I’ll post a picture of him. It cracks me up and touches me at the same time to watch him become the character. Clearly, the image he sees in the mirror somehow meshes perfectly with the image in his head.