RB dove into the idea of dressing up B, planning matching costumes for the two of them while she was still in utero. First year out, we shoved her in a lobster costume and Chef RB carted her around in a giant pot.
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| Halloween 2012 |
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| Halloween 2013 |
I thought we had one - maybe even two if we were lucky - more years of total Halloween control.By four, I knew she would have her own opinion and make her own decision. Surely at just barely two, though, we would still have complete say. Like most aspects of raising a toddler, however, I was wrong and reality was far, far different from our expectations.
Originally, RB planned to grow out just a mustache (again, in an attempt to annoy me beyond belief), channel his inner Libertarian, and head out with B as Ron Swanson and Leslie Knope. This was short-lived once we realized that even if we were able to find a toddler pant suit (which seemed unlikely, thanks a lot Etsy), our little princess was already boycotting all pants on a normal day. "Dress, please," is a common phrase heard throughout our house. Every morning. All morning.
Revised plan: Find anything fun and colorful that B would love to wear and wouldn't boycott.
With a Halloween scheduled packed with all the apple-cider drinking, pony riding, pumpkin-carving a two-year old can handle, we picked out three crucial costumes. Three... I know, it is ridiculous. But this is the year of the happy... and so we had three costumes.
In my "still way over-estimating life with a toddler," sleep-deprived brain, the costumes would be perfect. For Boo at the Zoo, she would be an adorable peacock posing perfectly still next to the zebra pen and the frog statues, smiling from ear to ear. For Trunk or Treat and actual Trick or Treat, she would shine in her homemade, beautiful Ariel costume. For our Mommy's Group party, she would marvel as a little mini-Audrey Hepburn, bouncing around in a black tutu dress, twirling in her over-sized pearls and quintessential Audrey sunglasses.
Yeah.
That didn't happen.
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| How the peacock costume should have looked: Pictures and delusions of life brought to you by Pottery Barn Kids |
Boo at the Zoo hit first, and to prep we showed B her peacock costume for two weeks before the big event. We read books about peacocks and watched some YouTube videos about the animal. We all took turns wearing the Peacock hat, with B taking special delight at her Dad's turn. (Picture not available due to threat of divorce by RB).
The big day came and we were ready to go. We parked at the zoo, surrounded by tigers and bears and eight-thousand little Elsas climbing out of their parents' SUVs. B jumped out, jabbering about seeing friends and pandas and riding horses (because, obviously, that is something she should get to do every weekend now).
Confidently, I whipped out the peacock costume and cheerfully let B know it was time to put it on! We were going to be a peacock! It was going to be so fun! Yay, themes! Yay, memories!
Within two seconds, I am fairly confident all of Atlanta could hear the displeasure coming from this tiny little girl. There was yelling and pleading. "No, pea, please. No, pea, please!" There were tense discussions between Momma and Daddy. There was input from strangers. "Stay strong, Mom!" "We have all been there!" Really? You have been there, sir? You have been trying to wrangle a toddler in the middle of a hot parking lot into a bright teal, harbinger of toddler-angst, felt demon while all of the Metropolitan-area - including your husband - takes bets on who will win this battle of wills? Sure you have.
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| Boo at the Zoo: Clearly a peacock. |
It took one minute of the high pitched screaming for me to cave. Fine. No peacock dress. You want to go naked to church, I will stand strong. But you don't want to wear some ridiculous costume you had no say in selecting for an event you won't remember in a week? You win. The threat of the peacock costume left its impact, though, and it took another twenty minutes of parking lot, desperate crying for us all to calm down and actually enter the zoo. Note to Atlanta Zoo: Please start selling wine. Immediately.
By that time, she wouldn't even wear a seasonally-themed dress. So, in we entered with her proudly displaying shiny, blue tights - two sizes too big - and a leotard. The one upside to the whole draining morning was having complete strangers guess what she was. A bruise? A snowflake? A winter ballerina? I don't even know what a winter ballerina is, but apparently that is what B looked like.
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| Screaming with happiness because she got her way. |
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| Who run the world? |
For Trunk or Treat, I had lost all my will. All of it. My plans to Pinterest-up a beautiful, made with love by mom Ariel costume was replaced by my overwhelming desire to not have an epic meltdown in the middle of a church parking lot. So, we went with an oldie but goodie, well-loved, oft-worn Ariel costume. I don't even remember where we bought this thing or who might have gifted it to us. All I know is that she will wear it with no screaming or tears. So, we threw it on, joined our group, and celebrated Trunk or Treat. RB donned his King Triton costume, I stalked B as Ursula, and it all went off without a hitch if you don't count B's instance that she, and she alone, gets to wear a crown.
Confidence returned after the success of Trunk or Treat, I woke up bright-eyed and optimistic on Halloween morning. We will wear our Audrey Hepburn costume this morning! All the Etsy searching will not have been a total waste! Again - memories! Pictures! Halloween!
I thought when B screamed at the peacock costume, that was the loudest she could be. I was wrong. So very, very wrong. We sat outside the park for the playgroup party while B threw a tantrum truly fitting for the horror of All Hallow's Eve. I knew before we started there were some battles not worth fighting and this was probably one of them. Still, I decided to try one trick: Convince B the costume was for a queen. I mean... it comes with a tiara after all. How could it not be a queen costume?
Stroke of genius. She stopped crying. She smiled. She said please and reached for the outfit. For a full 15 seconds. She put on the tiara, the pearls, let me slide on the gloves and then we were right back to a parking lot show down. Just like Boo at the Zoo, there was yelling. There was crying (mostly mine at this point). There were other moms offering to help and there, mocking me, was that stupid black leotard.
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| 'Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake I shake it off, I shake it off |
I am not sure anyone has really witnessed the audacity of toddler-hood until they have seen a two-year old wearing only a diaper, twirling costume pearls in the front seat of a (non-moving, completely off, of course) car, screaming "No clothes! No dress! Bonnie naked only!"
After a few minutes of letting her scream, I walked back to the car.Me: Are you ready to calm down?
B: Yes.
Me: Do you want to go home?
B: Nooooooooooooo.
Me: Will you wear clothes?
B: Yes. Ariel, please.
"Ariel, please," might as well be cross-stitched and hung on our wall. So we dug out the two-sizes too big, waiting to be returned to Party City, Ariel costume that was laying in the trunk. And I caved. And she had a great time, running around, chasing her friends, dragging her fins. She wasn't Audrey, but she was thrilled.
Halloween night, we didn't temp fate. We popped on her Ariel costume and let her prance from house to house in total bliss.
And as we drove home from our friend's house last night, an exhausted mermaid asleep in our back seat, RB held my hand. Deep in thought, he turned to me and said "Next year, we should do Merida from Brave. She can be Merida, I will be King Fergus, and you can be the Bear Queen. And let's have triplet boys by then to be the princes."
Yeah... you are definitely on your own for that one, buddy.
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