Joy was a witch for a cupcake decorating event at a local ice cream parlor...but for Halloween she was Holly Golightly from Breakfast at Tiffany's. Here's the story:
All year she was completely enthralled with Pocahantas and Mulan. She was going to be both for Halloween and she was going to have a Pocahantas and Mulan birthday party. (I am not sure how her mother was going to pull that off, but those were her plans for about 10 1/2 months.) Several weeks before Halloween she decided she wanted to be a witch, which was great with her mother because her mother had saved a witch costume from when she was 3 or 4 and it fit just right. However, a week or so later, Joy announced, "I'm going to be Mommy for Halloween." Her mother thought, "What the heck?" So she asked for clarification. Joy waltzed to the DVD drawer, pulled out Breakfast at Tiffany's and said, "See, I want to be Mommy--just like this." Now, her mother, not wanting to disappoint her by telling her that she is not really Audrey Hepburn (and rather appreciating the comment and wanting to perpetuate that idea for as long as she can!), came up with the costume you see Audrey Hepburn wearing in the opening scene of the movie: long black dress, choker, long black gloves, tiara, cigarette holder, and big, dark sunglasses. Most of the costume was made possible by Gigi, who still had vintage gloves, choker, and hemmed up the dress. (I am both technically challenged and seamstress-ly challenged!) She was the hit of the neighborhood! (She stayed in character for 2 hours of trick or treating... able to do so because of all of the time she spent studying the character in the movie--it is now on her top 10 list of favorites.)
Before you start composing an email telling me of the evils of allowing a 3/4 year old to watch TV/movies, just come live in my shoes for a day and you will probably change your mind. She is too smart for her mother's own good and her mother needs a 'talking time out' every once in a while.
Marlo was a flower fairy. She thoroughly enjoyed Halloween as well...not because she liked dressing up--because she didn't. And not because she liked the candy--because her mother only let her have one piece. And not because she particularly liked the other ghosts and monsters and princesses who were out and about. No, Marlo enjoyed the night because (1) she got to stay up past her bedtime, (2) she loves to be outside, especially after dark, and (3) she really thought she was flower fairy royalty, being pulled around the neighborhood in the wagon, waving at all of her admirers along the way.
Joy and Marlo's mother was a witch. (They will probably tell you she didn't have time to dress up.)
Joy just offered me a lick of her sticky lollipop. She still has a full bag of candy. The neighbors loved her costume so much they gave her extra candy. Her mother was thrilled.
(And here's a tip: If your Thanksgiving plans don’t come together, you can finish off the Halloween candy for dessert. See "Thanksgiving, oh, my stars!” for the full story.)
Posted by The Editor for Busy Body.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Grandma Tales
He was four: She was somewhat older; Neither of them calculated or cared about the difference in age. They were friends. They played well together. Each of them conceded to him the final decision in all matters. They played Thomas the Train: She could never be Thomas. They played robots: She could never be the designer or the finished robot. They built wonderful toys; although, sometimes, she got the pieces snatched from her hands and an impatient, impromptu lecture on what’s proper construction procedure and what isn’t. He especially liked that she never wanted first choice of the best toy, but left that to him. They played and played and played. They could play for hours with the game getting bigger and better and more skillfully executed and then be interrupted, only to return at the same point the next time they were together and there be no noticeable interruption.
He was moving; she wasn’t. The hours of play became more important. She knew it; he sensed it. The garage was full of the clutter of living and accumulating, and, more recently, with the frenzy of moving. Return this…give away that…throw that away (oh, or shall we keep it?)…too much stuff with no seeming order.
He had an amazing idea. Amazing ideas struck him frequently and they always were amazing—to him, and to her. Let’s play pirates in the garage! She wanted to, but there were quite a few obstacles. He saw her look and started nipping the excuses in the bud. Don’t worry; I know how to do it. Just follow me. Remember, she was older and bigger and didn’t always fit into the spaces he consigned to them. (There was that tent made on the backs of two dining chairs that he wanted to virtually live in for over a week. Her knees knew the price of compliance.) He started into that garage maze with the confidence of B’rer Rabbit diving into the briar patch. She was not quite so confident. Wait, Wait, do we really need to go over the top of that chest of drawers that isn’t stabilized by anything? His eyes take on the quality of imminent disappointment, No, but it will be more fun. Well, hey, fun is the reason for this, isn’t it? Somehow she makes it over the top and down the other side. Now we have to get down and go under this stuff like a snake. You remember how to be a snake, don’t you? It’s easy, like making the letter S on the ground. C’mon. It didn’t take ME that long. Now we just need to climb up on this shelf, and scoot sideways on our bottoms (Aren’t you proud that I said bottom and not that other word?) until we get to the middle shelf and then we take that rope off the wall and I climb up first and pull you up after me and then we stack those two big boxes on top of each other and make steps up the very top shelf right under the rafters. His amazing plan worked. This is great, huh? The precariousness of getting there wasn’t great, but then she did have to admit, it felt just like being pirates to sit there and see everything that was going on in the neighborhood without being seen. They were grandiose adventurers. They were pirates extraordinaire. He remembered that they didn’t bring snacks or swords—maybe they should go get them. She thought they were just fine, and just this once, he agreed. Look, the mailman is coming. They giggle. They poke each other with the camaraderie of being together in a secret. They look at each other with knowing looks and winks. The mailman drops the mail in the box at the front door and as he goes in front of the garage, HE WAVES. They giggle. They poke each other with the camaraderie of being together in a conspiracy. They look at each other with knowing looks and winks. Being discovered is as much fun as being hidden.
Their descent will be another story.
Posted by The Editor for Gigi
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
