A fairy princess (“Mom, do they make boy fairy princess costumes too?” “Yes, Moon Pie”).
A storm trooper with a storm trooper gun like the one at “Harry Potter’s Library” (Peter Piper’s Pizza, actually. Memory is a funny thing.)
A butterfly. (“Mom, do they make boy butterfly costumes?” “Yes, Moon Pie.”)
Any bad guy at all.
This morning, he wanted to be a soldier inside the bloodstream, the kind that fights germs. “That’s a good idea,” I said. There was a thoughtful pause from the backseat. Then he said, “Gbot can be a virus.”
But the most consistent response to my question, “What do you want to be for Halloween?” is: Spiderman. GBot’s is Batman.
I want Mbot to be Elmo again. I want Gbot to be Dumbo again. I want them both to be bunnies, or plush dinosaurs, or Winnie the Pooh. I just want them to be something fluffy.
Way back (about three weeks ago), when Mbot was going to be “Woody the cowboy, with a rope to lasso cows,” and Gbot was going to be a space ranger, Mbot suggested that I be a cow. Now that I will be escorting two micro superheroes from door to door come Halloween night, I asked Mbot what he thought I should be. “Wonder Woman,” was the answer. He obviously doesn’t know that her Lasso of Truth has the power to make anyone it captures obey.
Do I have the guts? Do I have the quads? Do I have the cleavage?
No to two and three. I’m working on the first. Can Wonder Woman wear a cute skirt instead of star-spangled Spanx? Do I need big hair? In ten years, will the Midgets roll their eyes in mortification at the pictures? And where do I get me a Lasso of Truth?
What are you going to be for Halloween, and why?