I discovered over the weekend that the mancub did not yet have a Halloween costume. "But honey!" I cried to poor T-Bone. "He has to have a Halloween costume! All the other little kids at daycare will have one and he'll feel left out!"
So yesterday I definitely had "Acquire a Halloween Costume" on my to-do list. Dr. K has also suggested that we could dress up, which I thought sounded like a fun idea, so I had to find a little something for myself as well. When a patient came in rhapsodizing about how she'd found an adorable lion costume for twelve bucks at the Old Navy across the street, I made a mental note to check it out.
After my shift, I drove across the street (I only drove because I have to cut through that shopping center to get home anyway). I quickly found the Halloween costume section but naturally the pickins' were a little slim. Really the only two costumes I could find in the mancub's size were a pumpkin and a chicken. I thought a pumpkin might be kind of boring but I wasn't sure what the mancub or his father would think of the chicken costume.
After all, what might it mean to a boy's fragile psyche to dress up as a chicken? Might I be condemning him to a lifetime of dead-end jobs?
Then again, I told myself, it could be worse. What if he turned out to be a blood-flinging wack-job?
With a little trepidation, I bought the chicken costume ($11.61!) and headed home.
Yspyg and I took an hour-long nap, I tidied up and then I had a massage client at 7:00 so I began the long task of gathering all my paraphernalia and getting it down to the car. Just as I was downloading directions and about to head out, T-Bone and the mancub arrived home. The mancub made a beeline for me. He crawled up in my lap and started to suck his thumb - he seems to like me okay. I hope I don't screw that up too bad. I asked him about his day and then I said, "I have a special prize for Daddy. It's on top of the television. Why don't you go give it to him?"
He hopped down and ran to the television, where he quickly found a CD box. I had given T-Bone a double CD of Marvin Gaye hits a few holidays ago - T-Bone LOVES Marvin Gaye - and it had been missing for a l o n g time, almost a year. We had both searched everywhere. Well, my attempts to gather massage music had found me with my arm stuffed down behind the CD stand, where I discovered Marvin Gaye wedged like a splinter between two pieces of pressboard. I slowly wriggled the CD out and displayed it for T-Bone to see first thing.
When T-Bone saw his CD, his eyes lit up. "My Marvin Gaye!" he crowed, cradling it. "Oh, my Marvin Gaye!" He did a crazy little wiggle dance and clasped it to his chest.
The mancub laughed. "I have a surprise for you, too," I told him.
"Where?!" asked T-Bone.
"In the bedroom. On the closet door."
They both thundered back to the bedroom. I was nervous. I hoped they wouldn't think it was silly - it was the best I could do.
There was a moment of silence. Then I heard T-Bone say in a strained voice, "What's this? Oh, a . . . chicken." A beat. Then the mancub said excitedly, "Chicken Little!" Well, it sounded more like "Ticken Yiddo!" But you get the idea. I had completely forgotten that the mancub loves Chicken Little. I got up from the couch and peeked around the corner. He was fingering the bright orange felt chicken legs lovingly.
"Ticken Yiddo!" he said reverently.
"That's right!" T-Bone told him. Assuming this had been my grand plan all along, he said, "You're Auntie did so well! Did you tell her thank you?"
The mancub tumbled out of the bedroom. "Auntie, Auntie! Tank you for my Ticken Yiddo!"
"You're so welcome!" I told him, giving him a big hug. I slowly separated myself from my men and headed happily off to my massage.
After all, you could do a lot worse than having a movie star in the family.