A melange of socks on the floor. Luckily all are accounted for. Notice the charming "balling." Makes laundry day that much more special!
Does a sock going missing make you want to weep? No? Guess what? It makes me want to weep. Seriously. If I don't keep track of the socks who will? I can tell you—NO ONE around here. And then what?
My daughters have new princess dresses my mom made for them. Really puffy and frilly and hot pink with purple accents. It hits all the little girl marks. But even if they didn't have these lovely frocks, they are the easy ones. I could get them almost anything and they would be thrilled. Doesn't have to be perfect, just needs to be pink or purple. Could be ripped, could be too small, too big, could be filthy. It's all good. "We don't care!" they say. Not in a sassy obnoxious way—in an omigod it's purple and pink and ruffly and rainbows and sparkly and Hello Kitty and mermaids and unicorns! way. They simply focus on all the good parts. I would really like to be in their heads for a little while. I'll bet it's like Disney-flavored wine in there. I could just lie down and rest for a spell. So needless to say they are perfectly thrilled with any costume. As long as it's pink or purple or somehow incorporates a rainbow, a pony or a puppy. A princess pony renders them pretty much unconsciousness with joy.
My son is not so much like this.
He originally wanted to be Ike from Super Smash Bros, a game he used to play (only on Fridays!) with the little boy next door. Take a peek at the picture and then note that Ike has a relatively complex outfit. Also blue hair. Also sort of a mullet. Also he is not actually a person. My son does not have blue hair or a mullet. This was our first issue. (Also he is an actual person.) I talked him off that ledge by suggesting the use of blue hair spray and stiff gel. Not that I had any real confidence those would work—I just said it would and hoped for the best. Next problem arose when the different parts of the costume were not exact. The shirt was a little too big, the boots were just not the same. I got a blue shirt at the thrift store and painted the edges with yellow paint and I thought it looked pretty good. He said the color was "94% exact." But he meant it in a nice way. He worried off and on that this was not going to be the Ike costume of his dreams.
I am crafty, but clearly I was in over my head. I suggested we hit Target. And thank all divine beings, he agreed.
In spite of his quirks (or perhaps because of them), I love my little Sheldon. He makes everything more interesting. (And overly complex). At the end of almost every day, he tells me I'm the best mom ever—in spite of all MY quirks. I think that's what we have to do—love our people, thorns and all. Focus on the blooms, actually, because we're all aware of our own thorns and I think the world would be a better, happier place if we illuminated the prettier, gentler parts of each other.
I would go costume-shopping any time with this kid. I'm pretty lucky. He's the best boy ever.