Monday, October 27, 2003
A Bee, a Train, and Billy Idol
I spent the weekend making a Halloween costume and reading Betty Friedan and other feminists. The two activities don't go so well together. See, I actually like making the kid's silly outfits, but the feminists kept making feel guilty for that. Shut up, Betty. I'm having fun.
This is our fifth Parent Halloween. And it's still quite a thrill. Shooting up rolls of film on the precious cuties and then a week of eating all their candy. It's excellent, really. Worth having a kid for.
For his first Halloween, Jonah was too little and we were too wrapped up in our dissertations to bother.
Halloween #2, Jonah was 1-1/2 and he got the hand-me-down matidor outfit that my aunt brought back from Mexico years ago. Cute, but he only wore it for about 15 minutes.
For Halloween #3, things got much better. Jonah was still too young to have a firm idea about what he wanted to be, but old enough to keep the costume on. So, I dressed him as Billy Idol. I gelled up his blond hair and gave him tattoos. His t-shirt had holes, safety pins, and a big A in a circle. He had a studded dog collar around his neck. We had a party and the parents got drunk. Good times.
Halloween #4, he really wanted to be a train, so Steve and I spent three days transforming an old box into a Thomas the Tank Engine costume. He looked great with his little arms sticking out of the side of the box. With Ian in a Baby Bjorn, Jonah and I went to the local Halloween parade. All the Spidermen, pirates, and butterflies marched in a circle around the park.
This year, Ian's getting stuck in the uncomfortable matidor outfit, but Jonah is getting a bee costume. When he said that he wanted to be a bee this year, I highly encouraged it. I kept thinking about John Beluchi's singing bee from Saturday Night Live.
I sewed fuzzy black strips around a yellow t-shirt from Old Navy. Boingy antennae and a little buzzer. And sunglasses.
Damn it, Betty. I'm not oppressed. Ironic Halloween costumes are a lot more amusing than grading papers.
I spent the weekend making a Halloween costume and reading Betty Friedan and other feminists. The two activities don't go so well together. See, I actually like making the kid's silly outfits, but the feminists kept making feel guilty for that. Shut up, Betty. I'm having fun.
This is our fifth Parent Halloween. And it's still quite a thrill. Shooting up rolls of film on the precious cuties and then a week of eating all their candy. It's excellent, really. Worth having a kid for.
For his first Halloween, Jonah was too little and we were too wrapped up in our dissertations to bother.
Halloween #2, Jonah was 1-1/2 and he got the hand-me-down matidor outfit that my aunt brought back from Mexico years ago. Cute, but he only wore it for about 15 minutes.
For Halloween #3, things got much better. Jonah was still too young to have a firm idea about what he wanted to be, but old enough to keep the costume on. So, I dressed him as Billy Idol. I gelled up his blond hair and gave him tattoos. His t-shirt had holes, safety pins, and a big A in a circle. He had a studded dog collar around his neck. We had a party and the parents got drunk. Good times.
Halloween #4, he really wanted to be a train, so Steve and I spent three days transforming an old box into a Thomas the Tank Engine costume. He looked great with his little arms sticking out of the side of the box. With Ian in a Baby Bjorn, Jonah and I went to the local Halloween parade. All the Spidermen, pirates, and butterflies marched in a circle around the park.
This year, Ian's getting stuck in the uncomfortable matidor outfit, but Jonah is getting a bee costume. When he said that he wanted to be a bee this year, I highly encouraged it. I kept thinking about John Beluchi's singing bee from Saturday Night Live.
I sewed fuzzy black strips around a yellow t-shirt from Old Navy. Boingy antennae and a little buzzer. And sunglasses.
Damn it, Betty. I'm not oppressed. Ironic Halloween costumes are a lot more amusing than grading papers.
