Peter Pan is Poopy

My master plan to finish the boys' Halloween costumes did not quite go as planned yesterday. I forgot that my sewing machine was in the cedar chest in my bedroom, and being that it was my Grandmother's machine, it weighs about 700 pounds. OK, maybe not quite that much, but when you are seven months pregnant, it sure seems that way. I had to wait for Marty to get home to get the machine out for me and carry it into the kitchen, it is currently on the table waiting for naptime today. I did accomplish the beginning of Grant's costume, he is going to be Peter Pan. When the boys got up from their nap, I put the movie in so I could be properly inspired as to just how Peter Pan should look, and got his shirt cut up just right. I had originally planned on making the entire costumes from scratch, but inspiration struck last week and I went to a consignment store and bought a plain green shirt for Grant and a red shirt for Ben, with the plan to doctor them up to look like their characters. Kind of cheating, but I don't care. I will still make their hats and swords, but the shirts will be cheater-homemade, and I do not feel even the tiniest bit guilty about it.

I love Halloween. I really like the decorations, and the kids enjoy the ghosts in the windows and spiderwebs and giant spiders on the furniture. We call everything spooky, not scary, to make it fun for all of them. Grant is usually pretty good at pronouncing things well, but spooky is pronounced poopy to him, I don't know why. Anywhere we go where there are decorations or costumes or anything having to do with Halloween, Grant points and yells, "Ooohhhh, Poopy! Poopy!" It's really funny. Anyway, after I finished his Peter Pan shirt, I wasn't entirely sure he would get the concept of a costume, so I explained it to him. "Hey Grant, see peter Pan on TV? See how he has a green shirt with the bottom like this one? Do you want to..." I was interrupted as Grant saw the shirt in my hands and put it all together. "POOPY! POOPY!" He giggled and laughed as he tried to get the shirt out of my hands. I put it on him and he immediately stuck his little arms straight out and pretended to fly around the room, laughing and yelling "Poopy!" all the while. I think he gets it.