As you know if you've followed this blog, Brandon is an actor. Big time drama, drama, drama actor. He sings, he dances, and he plays pretend. He's also a planner. Birthday plans for April start in about May. Christmas starts in January. As a result I've made a rule that I don't want to hear a word about Halloween costumes until October 1st. So, of course, on Oct. 1st, it became VERY urgent that we come up with a Halloween costume THAT DAY!!!! All other activities and interests ceased to exist until a costume was figured out.
And it was no surprise that the costume theme was SPIES. Because SPIES are the biggest, most important thing in the entire world. There is a piece of paper taped to the door that leads under the stairs that says SKI CLUB. In tiny (I'm talking so tiny you need a magnifying glass) letters underneath the big SKI, it says 'spy kids incorporated'. I once asked Brandon what his SKI club was about, and he was delighted that he'd fooled me. Behind the door of this club is every gadget he's managed to finagle from me or his dad or Santa or his grandma, which means tons. Spy glasses, spy spears, spy cars, spy cases--you name it and he's probably got it.
So come October first, otherwise known as Costume Day, we did a search for spy costumes to get some ideas. I noticed one spy who was wearing a tan leather jacket, and pointed out that his sister has one just like it. He found the jacket, and also found a hat that matched. He stuffed the jacket with all his spy gear, made himself a mustache, found one of my old wigs and voila! a spy was born.
He proceeded to put on this outfit on the 2nd of October, and the 3rd, and the 4th. You get the idea.
But after several days of exuberant spy-costume wearing, Daniel lost his patience. "You don't look like a spy. You look like a girl. Those are girl clothes."
Brandon came to me, deflated. "Is it true? Are these girl clothes?"
I confirmed that yes, it was his sister's jacket. But he knew that. And it was my hat. And wig. But he knew that too. But it didn't really matter, as long as when you put them together you look like a spy. Which he did. And he shouldn't listen to mean 'ol Daniel anyway. I did this while leering with all the loathing I could manage at Daniel. But it was too late. He discarded the outfit and began plans for another one. I told Daniel he could pay for whatever a new outfit cost, but that didn't go over too well. He said he didn't care what he wore, as long as they were never seen together. Mean Daniel. Mean, mean Daniel.
The outfit stayed in a heap just outside his bedroom door for a couple days. But then one day he put it on again. When I asked about it, he told me he'd talked to his friend, who is also going as a spy, and they decided together that it was perfect, no matter what mean ol' Daniel said. Because, he continued, his eyes bright and enthusiastic, this wasn't just one costume, it was two. He then ripped off the coat and hat (dramatically of course) to show me his "blending in" costume.
"Blending in?" I asked.
He rolled his eyes. As if I was born yesterday. "All spies have blending in outfits. Haven't you watched anything on TV?"
That is obviously one brilliant kid. Now if I can just figure out how to keep him from growing up.
