One more Halloween post. . .

There has been a lot of talk on the bloggosphere about tween's costumes this year. 

Know why?  Tween slut costumes.  Read this post and this post.  I actually saw some of these for myself at the CATHOLIC School Carnival last week.  Scary! 

I don't have girls.  I don't have to worry about thigh high tights or push-up training bras.  At least not until  my boys hit puberty. . .and then I will worry for a different reason.   You know I wanna get all judgy about the moms of girls who let their daughters dress as Little Ho Peep or Slutty Red Riding Hood.  I wanna. 

Maybe I should just shuddup.

Becasue I have boys.

I worry about:

Weapons.

Bloody, gory, hurty weapons.

I have one kid who will be dressing up like Einstein.  No issues there.  One will be an Oompa Loompa.  How adorable is that going to be?????  One will be a seafaring thief/vandal/rapist/murderer -- I mean Pirate.

Pirate is a good costume, right?  Pirates are cute.   Jack Sparrow (played by my very-second-choice-for-a-husband, Johnny Depp) is downright sexy.  I know that Pirates II & III were really really sucky movies.  Johnny Depp was still dreamylishious.  Even though he looks like he'd smell.  He's still hot.  I'm getting all drooly.  Sorry. 

Why do we think pirates are cute?  Is it because they are from a bygone era?  Will kids in 2210 dress up like doe-eyed versions of Charles Manson? I shudder at the thought.

At any rate, a pirate he wants to be and a pirate he's going to be.  An adorable pirate.  With a sword.  And maybe a gun.

He wants to be a pirate because of the weapons.  I could dress him in a suit & tie and he wouldn't care as long as he got to carry the sword.  He LOVES weapons. And toy stores LOVE to sell weapons to little boys like him.

Here are some of our choices:

Be careful not to get that blood on your sister.

Because kids can't get enough of bloody chainsaws.

This looks less like a weapon and more like an instrument of torture. 

Elegant, yet effective!

My personal favorite.  This one is called "Sacrificial Dagger".  Just in case we run into any virgins. 

All sold at a Toys-R-us near you! 

So, moms of girls?

Tell Little Ho Peep to beware of Pirates. 

Feeling Grownup. . .

I have "officially" been an adult for 24 years.

I admit that sometimes I feel old, but I don't usually feel like a "Grownup".

Maybe it's because I am the youngest person in my office.  I dunno.

But this morning. . . .

After dropping my littles off to school, I was heading to work down a busy avenue.

Two tweeny girls were walking to school.  I knew they were tweens because they were both dressed exactly alike -- and they obviously weren't sisters.  I should say that they were both accessorized exactly alike, as they were wearing the requisite white-polo-khaki-pants uniform.   They each wore pink hoodies, identical pink sketchers and carried identical Justin backpacks.  They each wore their hair tied in a pink chongo on top of their heads.  They walked with that self-conscious gait that tweens have.  They were cute.

Then, one of them tosses her Red-Bull can on the ground.

Excuse me?

Were you born in a BARN?

Without thinking, I pulled my car into the median, rolled down the window, and in my best MOM voice, yelled:

"Sweetie!  Pick up that can you dropped!  Find a trash can and throw it away.  I KNOW you know better."

Slightly chagrined, Tween picked it up.  Good girl.

MOM voice said:  "Thank you, honey.  Have a good day, okay?"

It was a reminder that I am.

I am.

I am a GROWNUP.

Kids have to listen to me.

I can boss them around if I want. 

All I have to do is use that voice that all my mom's friends used on me when I was a kid.  Mrs. Klumb, Mrs. McHugh, Mrs. Kennedy, Mrs. Reeves.  All the great ladies of my youth were with me as I gently but firmly corrected a young lady.

Sure, they can cuss & smoke and do rebellious things when I am not there.  Sure, Tween might have tossed the can back on the ground as soon as I left.

But I am going to give her the benefit of the doubt. 

She knows she has to listen to a grownup.