Skip to main content

Peter Pan

Year one
My son Matthew loved the story of and character Peter Pan so much as a creative 3 year old that he decided to be Peter Pan for Halloween and then became Peter for about 18 months. Seriously, 18 months.


It all started when a catalog with some really cool costumes came in the mail and we saw a nice Peter Pan costume. It was early October when it arrived in the mail and Matthew could not wait for Halloween so he could wear his costume since I told him he couldn't wear it until then. Halloween came and he wanted to put it on first thing - but this mean mom made him wait until the afternoon. 


When he put on the costume, he 'became' Peter Pan. He stood like Peter, with his hands on his hips, feet about shoulder width apart and a defiant look came upon his sweet cherubic face. Magic. The one thing he didn't like was that he didn't have a dagger that he could tuck in his belt. I cannot imagine what he'd have done if armed with a dagger!!


That night, he wanted to sleep in the costume but I wouldn't let him but the next day, he came downstairs dressed in his costume and when I asked him about it he said (with feet splayed and hands on hips) that he wanted to always wear it. At that time, I thought that meant occasionally and at home.


Well, thats certainly not what Matthew meant. He meant always as in always. At first we battled with him that when we went to the store or to the dcotros or to church, he would have to wear big boy clothes. When we were on our way to Grandma's for Thanksgiving, he wanted to wear the costume but we had purchased nice clothes for the holiday and we told him he had to wear those but "after awhile at Grandmas" he could change. You guessed it after less than hour, he came out of the guest room with his Peter Pan costume on and that's  how he spent the rest of the holiday.


Month after month, minor battles ensued until this battle-weary mom decided that this wasn't always an important battle and I begin to complain less when we'd got to Target or the grocery store with my son dressed in a green tunic and tights. (He never wore the hat after that first Halloween because it didn't fit well over all his curly hair). My memory isn't too clear on this, but I think I even let him go to church one Sunday because this battle-weary mom had likely done battle with one of the other two little Piggins and their dad wasn't home. Not sure, but it might have happened. After several months, the tights had holes but that didn't bother Matthew and the felt on the tunic became pilled and a little thin in spots.We did replace the tights once. I no longer even noticed the smiles and looks we'd get when we wouold be out-and-about in months long since October. I just got used to his wearing the costume! I figured that it was a phase and he'd grow out of it AND the costume. 


I figured wrong. While in the summer months, he might forgo the tights or wear his bathing suit all day, he would at some point go back to the tunic. I figured when the new catalog came in the mail, he'd select some other costume and we would be done with Peter. He would have grown up . . .


You guessed it, I once again figured wrong.
Year two

He again selected Peter Pan - and this time the costume came with a dagger (see it proudly worn on the belt)!  The dagger was used while play-fighting with his friend from across the street who dressed as batman but didn't cause any lasting damage. I believe he took that hat off right after the picture. Slowly that year, the costume was worn less and less until I realized with hardly any flourish that it had been weeks since he'd put it on. It was laying, discarded, on the floor of his bedroom. I felt a little sad actually. Because the boy that would never grow up, was indeed growing up. 

We talked about this last night and it brought tears to my eyes to hear Matthew retell the story and how much he remembered. And while he's a senior and will be heading off to college, I can still at times see in his eyes and stance that boy that was Peter Pan! Though now he never plays with daggers and hasn't worn a tunic or tights in years!!!



Comments

  1. I remember having to watch and rewatch...and rewatch...Peter Pan movie with Matthew when he was in that stage! He was a very serious little Peter Pan. Tell him that his Aunt Bonnie thinks he should get a Pan costume that fits and wear it this Halloween...for nostalgia purposes.

    LOL

    Bonnie

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

It's not a popularity contest, but ...

The "I'll Nevers" of growing older

  Years ago as a freelance writer, I submitted an essay entitled "The I'll Nevers of Parenting". It was a list, mostly, of things I had said prior to having children and the crow I was then eating because of the stupidity of the claims. You know little pearls of 'wisdom' that only someone who hasn't experienced the joys of  parenting could utter, like: I will never yell at my child in public or I will never let my child eat dinner in front of the television or my children will never stay up past 9 pm. I yelled at my children (usually when we were both tired and totally irrational!) in public. One time, as we were in the drop off lane at school with a long line of cars behind us, the boys hoped out of the car but Delaney was insisting on something that for the life of me I cannot recall and I was insisting that she get out of the van. We crept along, van door still open, until I got to the end of the line and yelled at the top of my voice, "Delaney get the...

Ch ... Ch ... Chemo

I was ready. I was prepared. The potential side-effect list was long and one I'd had some familiarity when John went through his treatment.  So I gathered my arsenal. I had my compazine, zofran and antivan. I had my ginger chewables and chicken noodle soup. I was armed and potentially dangerous. So, chemo day with the toxic chemo cocktail starting to do it's job, I envisioned it as either PacMan, eating away at the cancer cells or a Chia Pet, allowing my good cells to thrive. With these visions, (that aren't quite Christmas Eve sugar plums dancing) and tired from the chemo, I went to bed early. Friday, under the watchful eye of my caregiving hubby, I slept most of the day away. Not really hungry but not nauseous either. I spent the majority of the day horizontal on the couch listening to my book on Audible (despite the sleep timer, I probably missed 1/3 of what I 'read'), dozing, answering calls and texts, and snacking.  Perhaps the highlight of the ...

Struggling to not feel like a failure

Okay all of you 'struggling to stand' or 'not wanting to have to use a wheelchair' or others that look upon using a wheelchair as a symbol of failure, you're about to get punched. Punched in the figurative sense. I am about to go on my soap box and my Irish is up which means that I'm fairly peeved (though I've been mulling this over for awhile so I'm not as angry as I once was, which means there will be fewer expletives and a kinder tone). If you've read this blog or know me at all, you know that I did not go easily into using a wheelchair as my primary mode of transport. I too, may have had a little bit of your attitude about the wheelchair being sign of failure or of having given up. My sister, Kerri, helped put it in a different light. She said, and I'm paraphrasing here, "It's actually an energy saver since walking is stressful and you're worried about falling - using a wheelchair will take away a lot of that stress. You will hav...