Boy: What do you want to be when you grow up?
Husband (who legitimately has no idea what he wants to be when he grows up): A pilot so I can fly.
Boy: I want to be a bat so I can fly.
Well. Can't argue with that. Actually I suppose we could and maybe even should, but neither of us wants to be the one to tell him that he can't shift into a different species.
He made me whip up a bat costume, which consisted of one poorly cut piece of black suit lining, a t-shirt, and precisely three safety pins. He had me tell him a story of a boy turning into a bat, which thanks to my lack of literary skills was essentially Kafka, because why re-invent the wheel? At least Boy's Metamorphosis had a significantly happier ending.
When he woke up at
Eventually Girl woke up and did her trademark morning routine of sticking her face in mine and yelling various parts of speech that are best understood as commands: "Hungry! Thirsty! Milk! Up! Playroom! Dora! Mommy up!"As I carried her out of our room, I saw a little Boy shaped lump sitting quietly on a dark stair.
"What are you doing, Boy? Want to watch cartoons?"**
"I'm not Boy. I'm a bat. I'm hanging upside down on the ceiling now."
I wish we all were so committed to our dreams.
*It's November in Estonia. This phrase no longer effectively captures the time, as it is as applicable to 8:30 as it is to 5:30.
**Don't judge me. My kids wake up early.