My three-year-old son is going to be a butterfly for Halloween this year. I admit, when he first told me this was what he wanted, my heart melted a little. It was completely his idea, but you can bet I jumped on it. His costume is now complete with huge red and black wings, and he is so excited to take flight on Friday.
But you know what I’m about to tell you, right?
The response we’ve gotten when telling people what he is going to be has been less than stellar. When his friends find out, other three-, four-, or five-year-olds, you can see their confusion. They frown and shake their heads. “But he can’t be a butterfly. He’s not a girl.” And then their parents quickly jump in saying that of course he can be a butterfly, overdoing it because they are embarrassed, and most definitely because they see my son’s face (and mine). They don’t need to be embarrassed though. I know these parents, and I know they are not sitting around their house telling their sons they can only wear blue, play with trucks, and dress in fatigues for Halloween; I know they are not telling their daughters to cradle their baby dolls, primp their pink bows, and don sparkly tu-tus for the upcoming holiday.
And yet it is there. Why is that? Where do children so young get these ideas, assuming these children aren’t at home watching commercials all day?
When I have my son tell other adults that he is going to be a butterfly they are overly overjoyed. How sweet! A young sensitive boy who wants to be a butterfly. Aaaaaw. They give me a knowing wink. I don’t know what they are “knowing,” but it is clearly something. Maybe it’s because they feel proud, like me. When he first told me he wanted to be a butterfly I couldn’t help but congratulate myself on the fact that he saw nothing wrong with the idea. Other adults might also find it endearing, endearing and novel. I wonder if he picks up on everyone’s over-enthusiasm.
Am I a bit relieved that he chose the red and black wings? Yeah, probably so. I’m hoping for a less negative response on Halloween night as a result of his oh-so-very masculine and feathery butterfly wings (the wings that come in the packaging with the picture of the scantily-clad woman on the front). I can’t bear the thought of walking around that night for our first trick-or-treating experience with other children snickering.
I swear, if some kid so much as points at him with a smirk on his face I will bash his head with our jack-o-lantern. I will go Michael Myers on his ass (or her ass – let me make no assumptions here). Jason Voorhees will have nothing on me. No, I will be Jason’s Mother, wielding my maternal wrath.