Costume-October 2011

Here's the Husband in full clown regalia. The picture doesn't show it, but he's wearing the shoes he bought from the pros. (Click here to see more about those shoes)

Clown Pledge of Allegiance

The Husband shows this to me today. His alley must say it at the beginning of meetings:

I pledge allegiance
To a world of clowns,
And that for which they stand,
For red noses and big shoes,
For rubber chickens and kazoos;
One alley, under God,
To promote laughter and
Goodwill to all!

matryoshka

My son says to me while we're reheating pancakes, "Papá's clown?" I look. He's indicating my Russian nesting doll who has very pink cheeks. He indicates his own. "Papá like this." He wipes one cheek. "Like this." he wipes the other one. He smiles. It's just what he does when The Husband is doing his clown make-up.
What a great and unlikely connection! Clown figurines and nesting dolls have more in common than I thought!
This sort of connection could only take place in the house of a clown's wife...

You can do magic with anything!

For anything slightly out of the ordinary, its purpose must be doing magic tricks. Keep in mind this inference came from a two year old. Also keep in mind the house he lives in (click here to see the weird stuff he's growing up around).
For instance, the other day, I was doing laundry in the basement and the Son was messing around through our box of what I call Random Junk. Suddenly he comes up to me with a child-sized pair of red tights (perhaps they belonged to the previous owner of our house? They did leave behind a ton of junk....). "Do magic, Mommy."
"That's not magic.  They're tights."
"Oh. Papá magic?"
Taking my silence to be assent, he dragged the tights up the stairs to the kitchen so that Papá would have the opportunity to show him his new magic trick when he comes home.
Needless to say, I got rid of the tights after bedtime.  Thankfully, the Son's forgotten they ever existed.  Papá probably would have had to come up with a tight trick!

Scary Jesus at a Party

Contrary to popular belief, I am not Catholic. Just because my husband is Hispanic, that also does not mean he is Catholic (ok. He was raised Catholic. He does fit some of the stereotype.)
We do however, have many friends who are both Hispanic and Catholic.
Despite these friendships, our son has an astonishingly small amount of exposure to all things Catholic.
So, when we were at a party on Saturday, I took our son into our friend's bedroom to change his diaper. When he's done, he stands up on the bed, points at the wall and exclaims in horror, "What's that, Mommy?!"
I look at the wall. I see a crucifix. Then I think about what my son sees. He sees a man in agonizing pain as he dies a horrible death, has nails through his hands, and a crown of thorns on his head. "Oh that's just Jesus on the cross, baby," I reply, pick him up, and get him out of there!
I suppose if you were raised around crucifixes, they wouldn't disturb you the way this one disturbed my son and me, but wow! Catholicism is not a religion for the faint of heart.

Costume #1

He was sucking up. On my 17th birthday, I open the front door to a clown saying, "¡Feliz cumpleaños, The Wife!"
Somehow my husband had convinced my mother (keep in mind,we weren't even engaged yet) to sew him up a clown suit. He scavenged some clown shoes and had what I now recognize to be terrible make-up.
Apart from the make-up, the costume was not that bad. The worst part for him was when he had to urinate-he couldn't reach the drawstring around his neck so he always had to ask for help.
It's hard to be a good clown when you can't be independent about your bathroom needs.

Ghost Balloon on a Whim

The Husband made this on Saturday on a whim. My son thought that this meant he could also make a train balloon just as quickly. Not so much. Apparently trains require preparation...