The kid was obsessed with Pinocchio. No, not was, is. Still. Still will he hunt around for the perfect "got no strings pants" or shoes, which sounds more like dot-no-teen running together all melty . . . oh the happy on his face and little bend he does when he is satisfied with his costume. Oh, and let's not bring up the tail obsession since I think it's almost passed. That one always makes him upset.
Now, a new obsession, a new character. This one more controversial. Not for the machismo faint of heart. For this he needs something that twirls around his legs. Usually, unfortunately, one of my shirts. And here it is: I'm a girl! (Or Gayle? Perhaps a girl named Gayle.) I now must hide all my shirts, undergarments, and tights. Little boys are not gentle with such frill and he is a messy eater. Don't bother telling him he's a boy when he is in such a state of mind. It might be unhealthy and he will only insist louder, No, gayle! One [points to himself], two [points to me], two gayles! I don't blame that he wants to identify with me (or his long-haired friends at school). The other day he said he was Boo while in costume (the baby girl in Monsters), so I suspect it's his love of play acting. Or the alternative. But I am not paying for the surgery! :) Anyway, sooner or later he throws off his dress and pecks around for a Pinocchio costume once again. He changes his clothes a lot.
Funny though, last Friday two people thought he was a girl and the way he was dressed and really, just looking at him, I didn't see it. Girl or boy, I love him or her to death!
*No names were used. I could be talking about anybody. I am not embarrassing my man child. Not that there's anything wrong with that.