My Little Superhero (and Inexplicable Bob)

In four years of life, we’ve come full circle in the Halloween costume department. When Alex was 1, he was Batman. He was a bald, big-eyed, banana-eating Batman with super-pinchable cheeks. No, really.



When he was 2, he wanted to be a big bear. I remember his assertion that he would be a big bear, and my gentle nudges in another (any other) direction. I couldn’t conceive of the logistics, you see. Big bear would require heavy, furry costume, far from ideal in Alabama, where October 31 temperatures can remain mulishly in the mid-70s. Besides, big bear costumes I found online were both expensive and impractical—be a big bear after you’re securely potty trained, I told him. Those suits don’t have emergency zippers.

So he was Bob the Builder. How we came up with that I really have no idea. Alex has never watched Bob the Builder, and has always seemed bored by the premise. I can’t really blame him; whose idea of entertainment is watching others engage in manual labor? He was a cute Bob, though. He got to wear the “Toddler Two” sign in his school parade, and was just bursting with pride.

On the second lap around the gym Steven was beckoned by Ms. Margaret to come and rescue our hysterical Bob.

When he was 3, he was Superman. Ideal because Superman doesn’t wear a mask, and neither did Alex. “It hurts my nooooooooose!” he complained about all masks no matter how innocuous-looking. He was a proud, face-baring Superman in a sea of Batmans. (Batmen?)


This year, in a retro fashion nod to Halloweens 2006 and 2008, he is Batman, once again. But not just any Batman. He is The Dark Knight. Plastic mask and long cape and body suit and all. Crazy blond curls have replaced the bald head and the mask hides the big eyes, but he still won't turn down a banana.



He's still my baby.