My children and I enjoy Yo Gabba Gabba. The offspring get sucked into the psychedelic colors and odd songs just long enough for me to create a delightful taste explosion for dinner. One of the very few things I actually understand during this acid trip of a child’s program, occurs as a child introduces themselves followed by, “I like to dance!” This has made a great impression on my daughter. I simply say “My name is The Siren!” and she replies from anywhere in the house, “I like to dance!” Cute and quite a convenient way to locate her, I must admit.
The Kraken has decided, as is his way, to up the ante. When asked his name he will shout, “My name is The Kraken! I like to dance and . . . dress up!” We don’t yet have a very extensive dress up box, mostly used Halloween costumes: A couple superheroes, a bumblebee, a police officer and a red riding hood cloak. The latter was knitted by my talented sister for The Siren’s first birthday and comes complete with ruffle trimmed hood. The Kraken now considers this item to be the most special as it aides in morphing him into his newly chosen persona. This little red riding hood has found new life as Anakin Skywalker’s sweater cape, and it very rarely ever leaves my son’s back. I am a firm believer in picking your battles and being sure as hell to win the ones you choose. Therefore, he goes cloak less to school (so it doesn’t get ruined or peed on) and swimming lessons (so he doesn’t drown). Other than that the cape is fair game. I have limits and can only engage in epic warfare a couple times a day.
Imagine if you will a small face encircled in blond curls peeking from beneath a red hood. Now imagine this small face belongs to a little boy in the Star Wars toy aisle explaining all the characters and weapons to a woman he will only refer to as Princess Leia. He is totally oblivious to the many little snickers and stares from passerby. He is more than comfortable in his own skin and quite confident that he is a young man in the Jedi Order. Frankly, I envy his comfy and delightful world. Our little social experiment immediately exposes those with children over 5 (the ones laughing or giving me a knowing nod) and those without children (the ones giving me a ‘shame on you’ glare). What kind of mother allows her little boy to dress like a girl in public?
I think the better question is: How could I, as a mother, stifle the curiosity, creativity and spirit of a three year old? I most emphatically reply that I cannot and never shall!
Oh, and I also secretly enjoy being called Princess Leia! Why ruin that?
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