Ashley: Look Big Kid, your pirate costume came!
Big Kid: Oh no, I'm not bein' a piwate.
Ashley: Yes you are.
Big Kid: No, I'm not. I'm bein' Buzz Whiteyear.
Ashley: No, you're being a pirate. This pirate. And little kid is being a parrot and your wagon is going to be a ship, remember?
Big Kid: Mudder, no. I cannot be a piwate. No. I'm not bein' dis.
(grabs costume from my hands)
Ashley: Then I guess you won't have a costume, because I spent our costume money on this pirate outfit that you said you wanted.
Big Kid: (Begins to cry. Not tantrum crying either, genuine sad, quiet crying).
Ashley: What's wrong, why are you crying?
Big Kid: I just don't want to be a piwate.
Ashley: Why not?
Big Kid: 'Cuz it's just discustin'.
Ashley: It's not disgusting. It's a cool costume.
Big Kid: It's not cool. It's a piwate.
Big Kid: It's a discustin' piwate and I'm throwin' it outside.
(marches to the front door, Mr. Ashley intervenes and puts him in time out)
Several minutes later:
Ashley: Want to come out and have lunch?
Big Kid: No, mudder. I do not. Pwease-
Ashley: I'm making hotdogs into funny shapes with the new weiner cutters. You can have a penguin or a flower or a octopus or a crab...
Big Kid: No...uh...Did you say a cwab hotdog?
Big Kid: Okay.
Ashley: Come out and apologize to me and daddy.
Big Kid: No. I don't think so. I'm not sowwy.
Ashley: Then you don't get a crab hotdog.
Big Kid: (sadly) Okay.
(He emerges a few minutes later, shuffling and puffy eyed)
Mr. Ashley: Do you have something to say to me?
Big Kid: Yes. I'm sowwy.
Mr. Ashley: Do you know what you're sorry for?
Big Kid: No.
(They stare at each other for a moment)
Big Kid: I just don't want to be a piwate. I just want to be Buzz Whiteyear or an ice cream cone or a robot, but not a piwate. Not a discustin' piwate.
Now, although I don't agree that the costume is "discustin'" , I do think it's a little more gay looking than I originally thought. I'm even less thrilled about Buzz Lightyear than I am a pirate, and he can forget the ice cream cone. Buzz Lightyear wouldn't be so bad if little kid could be one of those green three eyed alien things, but I don't even know where to begin with that. I hate that he's getting to the age where he can pick his own costumes, it totally takes the fun out of it for me.
By the way, I cannot recommend weiner cutting. YUCK. Do you know what it's like to have weiner juice running down your hands? You probably do, you filthy thing. Yuck, yuck, yuck. Of course Big Kid loved it, so I'm probably stuck with it now. The crap I put up with around here.