Tonight at bedtime, in an effort to get away from the endless requests for superhero stories, and inspired by a page in The Runaway Bunny, I asked Henry if he wanted me to tell him a bedtime story about a circus.

Henry:  “What’s it called?”

Mommy:  “Um, it doesn’t have a name.  It’s just a circus.”

Henry:  “No, it has to have a name.”

Mommy:  “Okay, it’s the Super Duper Extra Groovy Circus.”

Henry:  “No.  Mommy’s Attention.”

Mommy:  “The Mommy’s Attention Circus?”

Henry:  “Yes.”

Mommy:  “Okay.  Once upon a time, there was a circus called the Mommy’s Attention Circus…”

Henry:  “And Daddy’s.”

Okay, kid.  We get it.

In case you are interested, The Mommy’s and Daddy’s Attention Circus features kids performing amazing tricks while all the mommies and daddies clap and cheer.  Henry rides a camel and is featured on the flying trapeze.

“Grandma is a person.  [long pause]  But not a ninja.”

For the past month or so, Henry has been living in various costumes.  It’s mostly been part of the ongoing superhero obsession, but costume choices range from the now nearly worn-out Power Ranger costume that he picked out for this Halloween weeks ago, to a Zorro-esque costume I whipped up out of construction paper on demand after he’d been watching the Backyardigans “Masked Retriever” episode, a vampire, or last year’s now much too small dinosaur costume, to every possible combination of capes, wings, masks, or hats in his costume basket. Recent favorites: “Black Widow Man” (a “bad guy” of his own invention, worn to the doctor’s office–black cape, paper Zorro hat and mask, plastic spider ring), and “Captain Naked” (a black cape and his birthday suit, worn only in wild runs around the house before and after bathtime).

Lately, on the rare occasions he’s not already wandering around in a cape or a mask on the playground when I pick him up from pre-K, he goes inside with me, makes a beeline for the costume area, and demonstrates whatever the day’s favorite is–a bat, a pirate, whatever.

Today, after demo-ing a soldier helmet (with jaunty salute) and the pirate costume, he announced that “Drewbie weared the princess dress,” then asked me to help him on with a mermaid costume, then a “princess” costume (actually a long, slinky nylon dress), then a tutu, spinning around in each, fascinated by the different levels of twirliness. When I asked whether he wore the princess dress in class, he said, “No, just the girls” (despite previous comment about Drew).  When I asked why he wanted to dress up after school instead of during school, he said, “Because I don’t want my friends to see me.”  When another boy came in with his mom, he hid behind me, announcing, “I don’t want Elijah to see me!”  and started pulling off the dress.

It reminded me of a few weeks ago at  his friend Lily’s house, but a few weeks ago when they were playing dress-up and he announced, “I want to wear the princess dress but I don’t want anyone to see me” (though it was just he and Lily and me and Lily’s mom), and hid in the bathroom to try it on, but after a couple of minutes was out in the living room twirling madly, and wore the dress (plus wings, crown, clickety-clackety mules, and wand) for the rest of the afternoon.

It’s so hard to know whether to be charmed that he’s still comfortable enough to include dresses and tutus in his widely varied costume play or bothered that he’s already so clearly internalized the idea that doing so is something to be embarassed or ashamed about. His dad seems to think that it’s a healthy recognition that “that’s not appropriate.”  But this free-to-be-you-and-me mama waxes nostalgic for the days when the two-year old boys in his class would fight over who got to wear the princess shoes with his fairy costume!  Not to mention the days when Henry could happily be a lion or a polar bear or monkey for a week solid with no costumes required.  Or frankly, anything that doesn’t involve either “shooting,” “fighting,” or whining for trips to Target RIGHT NOW.

Anyway, he’s been begging for more costumes almost every day and I’ve promised him we’ll hit the sales after Halloween when things “cost better,” as he likes to say.  It will be interesting to see what he chooses.  For tonight, it’s camouflage jammies and fairy wings.

Post-Halloween update: After all of the above, Henry decided the weekend before Halloween that he wanted me to make him a ghost costume by cutting holes in a sheet, after seeing this trick demonstrated by the Peanuts gang on the Great Pumpkin movie and in a couple of books.  He wore this for about a week, to school for their party, and up til Saturday afternoon was planning to wear it for the big night, until he figured out how hard it is to eat under a sheet.  So Power Ranger it was.  Unfortunately, I never got a good photo of the ghost costume, because it was my very favorite.

• Henry would like it to be known that he is now a big boy and can go to sleep without his mommy or daddy sleeping with him (i.e. lying down in his bed til he falls asleep, which we’ve pretty much been doing since the great monster scare of spring ‘09).  New bedtime query: “Who’s NOT sleeping with me tonight?”
• Henry can now read books to his parents.  Or at least recite them from memory while looking at the picture, with impressively accurate phrasing. 
• Henry, when asked by his kindergartener cousin what he did in pre-K today, replies, “We are learning about hotels. . .  And hats.”
• “How do you count to a teenager? . . . without fingers?”  [thinks.]  “Maybe you just use your mouth!  1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20.  I can count to a teenager AND a grownup!”

Henry:  Cats are not very noisy.  Are babies scared of dogs?

Mommy:  I don’t know.  Different babies are scared of different things.

Henry:  Sometimes when babies are in your tummy, they want a pet.  If they don’t have one already.

Mommy:  Mmmm.  That’s interesting.  What made you think of that?

Henry:  Maybe a fish.

Mommy:  Yes, fish are nice and quiet.

Henry:  Are eels scary?

[Note from Mommy:  There is NO baby in my tummy.  Although Henry thinks it would be a really great idea.  And we are NOT getting an eel.  Maybe a fish.]

Jose:  I don’t want to be your friend anymore!

Henry:  (gets upset, then thinks for a moment)  You’re my cousin!

Henry’s been going through the Oedipal phase for at least a year now–as in walking into our bedroom, climbing into bed with us, and announcing, “Go away, Daddy!”  But the times they are a-changing.

Henry:  What’s that on your hand?

Mommy:  That’s my wedding ring.  Daddy has one, too.  We got them when we got married.

H:  I want one like that.

M:  Well, when you grow up, if you want to get married, you can get a ring like that.

H:  Can I marry you when I grow up?

M:  No, you can only be married to one person.  I’m already married to Daddy. 

H:  Who will I be married to?

M:  I don’t know yet.  When you grow up, you can decide who you want to marry.

H:  Okay, I’ll marry Daddy!

M:  But Daddy is already married to me.  You should marry someone your own age.  But when you’re grown up.

H:  Okay, when I grow up I will marry Daddy and get a ring like that.

M: [gives up]

I’m baaaaack!  I don’t have much time for blogging these days, but Henry is such a person these days and I’m trying to hold on to the memories.  So I’ll try to start keeping up again.

Latest in Henry’s discovery of the human body: “I have a tail!” 
Me: Really?
Henry: [points at penis]
Me: Actually, that’s your penis.  It’s where your peepee comes out of.
Henry: [preening in front of mirror] I have a tail!  Like a turtle!

Henry is always being something–usually some kind of animal.  Crawling, running, growling, roaring, quacking, barking, breathing fire.  Now that we seem to have gotten past the multi-month dinosaur phase–”I’m a stri-tera-ops!  I’m a T-rex!  I’m a stegosaurus!”–recent favorites include lobster, panda, ANIMAL tiger (as distinguished from Kung Fu Master Tigress), and the entire caterpillar-pupa-butterfly routine. 

Under the influence of his superhero-obsessed cousin, he recently announced, “I’m a dog.  I’m a SUPER dog.”  And yesterday he declared, “I’m a superhero DANCING!” and proceeded to do a very impressive little jig.

Lately he seems to be groping more toward concepts of gender–he will periodically announce, “I’m a GIRL panda” or something like that.  Interestingly, he never bothers to note that he is a BOY whatever–masculinity apparently still being the unstated norm in Henry’s world despite the efforts of mommy and her legions of feminist comrades.  He will, however, note specifically if he is being “a mommy lion,” or “a daddy elephant,” or “a baby bear cub.”  And occasionally he will respond to a question about “What are you now?” with “I’m just a boy.”  (Sometimes, “I’m just a kid.”)

The other day in the car he asked me if I was a girl.  I explained that I was a woman, which is what girls become when they grow up, just like boys grow into men.  (Apologies to the transgender activists and Judith Butlerites out there–I suppose I haven’t myself entirely accepted that we can–or at any rate, not easily) grow up into whatever gender we want, at least at the knee-jerk level of trying to explain things to a three-year-old while driving.)  Anyway, Henry responded blankly to this and demanded to know, “But mommy, are you a GIRL?”  Until I finally said, “Yes, I’m a girl.  A grown-up girl,” I added for good measure.  He was silent for a moment and then announced, “You’re MY girl.”  Melt.

After the usual rapid cycling this morning between lion, tiger, and anything else that could run around roaring, Henry announced at breakfast, “I’m a GIRL.  I’m a girl growing up.  I grow up to be…to be…to be…”  Mommy: “What, sweetie?”  Henry: “I grow up to be a TURTLE!”

Here he is as a caterpillar: