Little Devil

Me: Tornado A, what do you want to be for Halloween?

Tornado A: Satan!

Me: Ok.

My mother: You’re letting him be Satan for Halloween?

Me: Sure, why not?

My mother: Because. It’s not right. How about you go as a devil, Tornado A?

Tornado A: Satan is The Devil.

My mother eyed me. I shrugged. I envisioned a red suit with red shirt and tie.


The Fem Spot: Maybe you could call him something other than Satan? Doesn’t Paradise Lost have other names for him? Like Lucifer?

I had just finished telling her the costume plans. I decided to ask Tornado A what he wanted to wear, just in case he preferred red sweats and a red turtleneck (none to be found). He asked for a black suit and red shirt and tie. AND HORNS, MAMA!

Me: Well, I am Catholic and an English teacher. I should be able to come up with something….. The Morning Star, The Light Bringer, The Deceiver, The Fallen One. He Who Must Not Be Named. Wait. Wrong book.

The Fem Spot: You’ll think of something.


So it was my youngest son went as the Lord of Hell with a black suit, red shirt, red tie, a pitchfork, and HORNS. And the best joke I heard was at a Halloween event at the zoo.

Comicon Guy: Why isn’t it The Man, himself? Hello, sir. Good evening. But I believe you’re early, and that is a breach of contract.




It’s hard to teach sharing and being nice to people.  I sometimes wonder if as humans, we are naturally selfish, egotistical beings and that it is against our very natures to think beyond ourselves.  I struggle to teach the boys to get along, to share their toys with each other, or, at the very least, stop f-ing antagonizing each other.  Jesus.  Is it so hard to just not make your brother scream in aggravation because you said something or took away the toy or hit him?  Leave him alone!


So imagine my surprise when ever was upset that Tornado S had an eyeball balloon and he didn’t.  While Tornado E was at school, we were at the grocery store, where they were giving away their Halloween balloons.  When a store clerk asked Tornado S if he wanted one, he asked for the eye-ball balloon with a please.  All day, Tornado S was talking to his Eye-Ball Friend.  Naturally, Tornado E had to destroy this special bond.

After the third time of Tornado E taking the balloon and the second time of him putting the ribbon in his mouth to irritate Tornado S, I sent Tornado E to time out.  After the five minutes, we had a nice little discussion over when something belongs to someone else, we leave it alone.  We play with other people’s things when we ask and they say yes.

Tornado E: But I like the eye-ball balloon!

Me: I know.  But it’s Tornado S’s.

Tornado E: But Mommmmmmyyyyyyy!

Me: It’s still Tornado S’s.  Play with the other balloon.

Tornado S: Here, brother!  You want to play with it?!  You can!

And then I realize my boy is the sweetest, kindest, most adorable boy on the planet.  And maybe I had a hand in it.

Notes on Halloween

1. When am I going to learn that I’m not superwoman and I can’t control time to slow down?

2. Sugar cookies take a lot longer when they’re really, really sticky.

3.  Really, really sticky dough makes me roll thick cookies and hand out dough so I won’t have to cut so many damn cookies.

4. Tornado A felt neglected because I didn’t hold him 85% of the day.

5.  It was too warm for Tornado A to wear one of his hand-me-down costumes.  Until we were trick-or-treating, and then it was freakin’ cold.  Stupid desert.

6.  Why do my sons change their minds of what they want to be just as I’m trying to dress them in their costumes?

7. If I knew Tornado S was going to go from a skeleton/vampire/pumpkin to just a vampire, I wouldn’t have freaked out Saturday when I found the skeleton costume was WAY TOO BIG and not braved Wal-mart and saved twenty bucks on sweats, lining paper, and other odds and ends.

8.  He did look like an adorable vampire with out fangs because he said he already had them.

9. Kid Halloween parties are a blast  Mainly because I don’t have to clean up.

10.  Trick-or-treating with friends is a blast because I have someone to talk to.

11.  Tornado S loved just walking around admiring the lights.

12. Tornado E had to compliment every house for something.  “I like your pumpkins.”  “I like your skeleton; he’s creepy.”  “I like the smell of your candle.”  “I like your roof because it’s high.”

13.  Glow bracelets are awesome.

14. I get a kick out of explaining Halloween traditions to people.

15. I’ve got to stop half-assing my favorite holiday.  Next year we’ll do more crafts, and I’ll actually post them.  I’ll make a kick-ass dinner.  (Though I made ghost pancakes for breakfast and octopus hot dogs for lunch)  I will get around to carving the pumpkin.  And I’ll make kick-ass costumes for all.  I will.  I promise you.

Decisions, decisions

Halloween is creeping up, and my boys are being seduced by to many choices.

Tornado E’s choices:

A zombie.

A viking.

A warrior.

A knight.

Dr. Facilier.

A skeleton.

A pumpkin.

Tornado S’s choices:

Dr. Facilier.

A zombie.

Dr. Zombot.

A skeleton.

A vampire AND a skeleton.

A vampire AND a skeleton AND a pumpkin.

Yes, Mom, it WOULD be easier to just pick out costumes for them.  But would be the fun of that?

No party and no costumes make Fae a very sad mom

I’m envious of a lot of you today.   I know why the internet was silent this morning, why my Storm wasn’t binging at outrageously early hour (since AZ is still on Western time), why so many haven’t been by.  Today the schools are celebrating Halloween, and you all spent the morning running around like chickens with their heads cut off.  Tornado E’s school has a no Halloween costume policy, which I should have asked about when I was looking for a school.

I love Halloween.  But I wonder if my mom began to hate it.  The day the school celebrated Halloween (usually on Halloween if it wasn’t on some glorious weekend) was the day we ran close to being late.  My mom hates being late or even on time; she likes to be early.  We were always early to school.  But Halloween morning found our house in seven kinds of chaos.  Mom!  Where’s my hat?!  Mom! I need your help with my make-up!  Mom!  I need you to do my hair!  Mom! Where’s my bow?  Mom!  I can’t go without my dress and hair sprayed with glitter!  Mom!  Where are my shoes?!  After a few years of chaos, my mom set down the law that if you wanted to dress up, you had to be up a half an hour earlier.  It didn’t help matters at all.  Since my mom was a super stay-at-home mom, I assume this scene is somewhat playing at your houses this morning.

But alas we didn’t have such moments.  Tornado E didn’t get to torture me by changing his mind.  I didn’t get to forbid him bring any weapon props.  We didn’t scramble to get treats ready for a class Halloween party.  I didn’t get to yell at Tornado S for sneaking the treats.  (Oh, wait I did because the little stinker was eating the Rice Krispie Treat ghosts before I iced them.)  I feel rather depressed by this.  Not that I blame the school . . . much.

Several years ago, before the boys, I was a teacher assistant at a private school.  The moms were ultra-competitive.  The first birthday rolled around, and the child brought delicious cupcakes.  The next birthday hit, and the cupcakes had sprinkles.  The next birthday came, and the cupcakes had candy.  The next birthday, it was cupcakes with rings on top.  The next birthday, toys on top of the cupcakes.  At the end of the year, a mom brought pizza, cake, and ice cream for the class.  A little ridiculous, even if I got to snag a piece of pizza.  The parties were worse as each mom brought something to outdo the other.  Instead of regular cookies and punch, it was gourmet cookies, sparkling punch, toys, full sized candy bars, and so on.

At the time I was pulling a second job with the Girl Scouts trying to start new troops in schools around OC.  We were at a school for three months, and at the end of the session, we would throw a party and induct each girl into the Girl Scouts.  We had a handle on the parties because we were working in middle class and lower neighborhoods, knowing moms worked or there wasn’t much money in the families.  We asked the girls to volunteer to bring chips/pretzels, punch/soda, and cookies/cupcakes.  If it was a huge session, we would add candy and break up the subcategories.  We insisted on economy bags of chips and liters of drink.  The girls were told to tell their parents that day and not the night before the party.

Even with us monitoring the discussion, it was funny to have girls volunteer to bring cakes, pies, and even try to bring more than one thing.  We would gently persuade the girls to go along with our plans, trying to convince them that they didn’t sell Fire Cheetohs in big enough bags.  Of course, some crazy mother sent her daughter with a huge pack of Pixy Stix which we confiscated before the girls opened it.  Though I was evil enough, to send all the girls home with some and twice as many to the girl who brought it.

So if the school is trying to keep things low-key, I get it.  If they’re trying to protect the kids with food allergies, I’m on their side.  We wouldn’t want to a parent to mistakenly give a kid something he or she couldn’t eat.  But really, I wish we could throw a class party.   Or at least see the creative choices of the class.

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Halloween Choices

I’ve been remissed lately about the crafts, not just with you, but with the boys too.  Last year I had all kinds of crafts for people to do.  This year, um, not so much.  See, apparently when I get morning sickness, I prefer to let the boys learn from watching Mickey as I lay on the bed, telling my breakfast to stay put as I reread the adventures of Bella and Edward to keep my mind from questioning my sanity over deciding to get pregnant again.  This allows little to no time for crafts.  And Halloween is in a few days.  I’m sorry.  I suck.  I know.

But before I could become a fat (I know hard to do when I can’t keep my calories down), lazy slob in a hammock, yelling “Tornado E, get Mommy her prying bar; easy does it, easy, sugar” (nod to those who got that reference), I got my energy back.  Hallelujah!  So we made glue ghosts, which are more glitter than glue.  I plan on shaping some rice krispies bars into ghosts tomorrow.  Saturday my mom and I are planning a special Halloween dinner with scary face sloppy joes, ghost cheese bread, and bugs.  We still haven’t figured out desert.  I’m thinking brownie coffins again.

Last year I made ghost toast because Tornado E had a fever, so I had to forgo making ghost pancakes.  I cut their sandwiches with Halloween cookie cutters, but they didn’t eat them.  For dinner, I made a cheese pizza, using cheddar cheese so that I could use string cheese to make the web.  I made the ghost cheese bread out of refrigerated crescent dough, shaping the triangles into ghost shapes.  I made brownies that I cut into coffin shapes, iced, and then frosted a little cross on the top of each one.  I do this to make up for not being able to throw another large, outrageous Halloween party.

This year, I decided Tornado S should go as a pirate.  Sure, I should have asked.  I asked Tornado E at this age, and he wanted to be Robin Hood.  But I figured Tornado S is obsessed with pirates, so he would love a pirate costume.  Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a white button up shirt for a 2t boy?  No one has them.  I even went to a brunch of second hand stores.  Finally I settled on a size 4/5, since we all know pirates wore baggy clothes any ways.  I bought some dark grey sweatpants that I cut into a zig-zag pattern just below Tornado S’s knees.  My mom made Tornado S a black vest, and she found some gaudy button covers for him.  I cut him a red sash, tied a red bandana on his head, and placed a foam pirate’s hat on his head.  He loved the costume.

Remember last year when Tornado E decided two months out that he wanted to be a witch.  This year he couldn’t make up his mind.  He wanted to be a bat, a vampire, a green monster, a stick of gum, Halloween candy, a doctor, a rubber chicken, the chicken from Surf’s Up, a bubble gum machine, an alien.  At some point, I realized an Uncle was involved somewhere and told them to shut the f up.  So when we went to Wal-Mart, I told Tornado E he had to pick one thing.  My mom was looking at those cheap t-shirt costumes. Tornado E picked the devil shirt, but since it had a corset, I thought I would make our own.  We went into the boy department and picked up a red turtle-neck and red sweats.  As I browsed the costume department for horns and a tail, which only came as a girl set, my mom and Tornado E argued because Tornado E had chosen something else, something store bought.  I think he wanted to be Darth Vader.  The kid has a wicked impression.  I broke up the fight and dragged Tornado E to the cash register with him calling me.


I don’t want to be a devil anymore.

What do you want to be?

Ummmm, a transformer!


When we returned home, I ripped off the feathers off the horns and placed them on Tornado E’s head, who laughed in delight, begging to wear his costume, which I obliged.  He was excited to be Mommy-what’s-it-called-again a devil.

The next day he was wearing the shirt and pants with the tail still pinned to it before I even got out of bed.  Today he was a dragon.  Whatever.

Then Tuesday we were going to the special Halloween story time.  I dressed Tornado S up first.  Then I turned to Tornado E who decided he was going as a pirate too.  What?!  Are you kidding?! He calmly told me he could wear his pirate costume.  I should have said yes, but I have pride in my craftiness, so I couldn’t allow my son to go to Halloween in a store bought piece of crap.  I said no.  We argued.  I called for backup.  My mom wasn’t home, and my dad said he didn’t know.  Thanks.  I turned to Tornado E and gave him a choice.  Vampire or devil?


Because this was the option thrown around most, I knew what I was going to do.  I pulled out his ring bearer tux.  I put him in his pants, shirt and white vest.  I used baby powder to whiten his face (because it doesn’t over do it like the costume make up).  Unfortunately when we moved, I went through all my make-up and threw out my unused lipsticks, costume make up and such, so the only lipstick I had was the one I actually use (from time to time when I have to be all “adult”).  Oh, well.  Then I put his black witch’s cape from last Halloween on him.  Bam.  Traditional vampire.  Except his hair was messed up like the newest, most popular, and arguably best looking vampire, and I didn’t have the heart to slick it back.  Actually I debated on throwing on some glitter (because I have tubes of that stuff).  But I refrained.

Tornado E loved it.  But at the end of story time, he had taken the pirate hat and was calling himself a musketeer.  Whatever.

Then yesterday when he talked to the triplet’s mom, and she asked what he was going to be for Halloween.  He proudly said a devil and described his costume.

Whatever.  I’m done.

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Missing Witch’s hat and Vomiting

I guess I should join the rest of the moms and talk about Halloween.  Unfortunately mine started the night before Halloween when I couldn’t find the witch’s hat for Evan’s costume, which means he believed he was a bat, a monster, a black knight.  Ok, whatever.  After my husband finally made it home, we loaded the kids in the car and went the city Halloween celebration, which was packed because we got there so late.  For some reason it felt like begging for candy and made my husband and I feel kind of weird.  Maybe it was all the kids with half-assed costumes (but that could have been valid reasons, right?), or maybe it was the fact that the lines became one giant line shuffling from store to store for one little piece of candy.  Any ways we left after an hour as Evan munched on candy.


He proceeded to munch on candy at home, asking one parent and then the other.  (Note: Must always ask the other parent if the child is asking for something.)  Then he told me he hid his candy when I told him no more.  It turns out he hid it in his mouth while he was hiding from me.  I found Starburst wrappers under the computer desk the next day. 


Then about 9:30 Evan started crying from his bed, and I ran up to chase away any monsters to find that he threw up.  Stupid candy.  Stupid husband who had to run an errand.  As I rushed around the room trying to figure out what to do first – clean the kid up, clean the sheets, shut the door, find the sheets – I silently cursed my husband.   Ok, grab towels and run the hot water for wash clothes.  Shut the door to keep Sean from waking up.  Dump the kid onto a towel on the floor.  Strip the child.  Murmur reassurances, and run to the bathroom to soak the washcloths in the now warm water.  Wipe down the child with more murmuring of reassurances, and quickly find any shirt (ANY SHIRT) to put the child in.  Put the child in the only other safe bed that he’ll stay in, mom’s and dad’s.  Then as you strip the bed you hear the garage door opening, and thank God he’s home.  Of course, the bed’s stripped and half made by the time the husband’s upstairs.  And being the kind hearted mother and wife, you have the husband soothe the child as you rinse the vomit out of the sheets in the kitchen and dump them on heavy load in the wash.  All the while, I have the following paragraph running in my head:


“Paloma, Patrick is throwing up!” I would tell her, and she would literally run to his room, clean the sheets, change his pajamas, spread a clean towel on his pillow, feed him ice chips, sing to him.  I would stand in the doorway, concerned, making faces at Patrick to cheer him up – the way my father did when I was sick and my mother was taking care of me. – Caitlin Flanagan, The Hell with All That: Loving and Loathing your Inner Housewife


Now you know why I hate her book so much.


Well, the night progressed with me coming to bed two hours later and catching Evan’s vomit in a bowl I had ready.  No, I didn’t want him to sleep in our bed because I didn’t want vomit in my hair.  But the pleas coming from both male occupants of the bed and the lucky catch made me agree.  And I was able to catch the vomit several more times and administer Motrin for the fever that ensued. 


So no ghost pancakes for Halloween, only ghost toast.  Sean enjoyed the roll up sandwiches to look like a back bone.  (Ok, I didn’t have my Halloween party; I need this.)  Evan instructed from the couch how I should cut the pumpkin as I wondered how I was going to get another witch’s hat.  As I put the boys to nap, missing my blog reading, as I talked on the phone to my old roommate and my best friend, I made brownies to shape into coffins, replaced the falling stars on the robe, and cleaned the living room and dining room up so trick-or-treating parents didn’t believe we lived in squalor.  When my husband came home to admit he forgot the hat and to assume child watching duties, I made broomstick breadsticks and a pizza with a cheese cobweb on it.  Did I ever mention I love Halloween?


We trick-or-treated early with Evan waving around a glow stick like a light saber.  Poor Evan was done after half a dozen houses, but Sean wanted to visit every house, so I had to hold him back.  I insisted on visiting our teenage babysitter’s house that’s two doors down.  (Yes, we are lucky, but she’s also young and extremely busy.)  There Evan gave every one the battery-operated tea lights that were decorating the house, insisting they will keep away monsters.  The mom was so thrilled by the idea of giving away the decorations she didn’t need and how cute Evan was, we ended up with a dozen of our own.  Yes, I find the lights cute.  With the safety of home, Evan stripped out of his costume and crashed on the couch.  But both boys had to greet every trick-or-treater, or “Halloween friends” as Evan called them, when ever the door bell rang.


At the end of the night, after the boys went to bed, the trick-or-treaters became teenagers.  Now I subscribe to my mother’s theory: better trick-or-treating than causing trouble.  So I loaded these teenagers up with candy.  Besides I had tons, and I am a recovering sugar addict.  Then when I went to bring in our jack-o-lantern so I could carve it up for breads, I noticed it was gone.  Those stupid teenagers!  Back in my day we had honor and would never steal decorations from a house who gave us candy, especially if it was loads of candy.  My husband didn’t understand why they would take it.  Oh, pumpkin smashing fun.


Oh, and yes, Evan is still sick, throwing up dinner from last night (he insisted on pizza, and yes, I’m an idiot for letting him eat it) and breakfast of peanut butter sandwiches (ok, I’m a slow learner).  It just better not be the flu.





Yet Another Halloween Craft

Yes, another, but we haven’t done it yet.  We’re doing it after nap time, but I’ll let you know how it goes.  But since we’re running out of time, I figured I pre-post.  I found this awesome site that actually has ages on it’s crafts.  I also got this craft from the sight though I add to it because I thought it needed something extra as well as being more time consuming.

CD-ROM Pumpkin

Things you need:

  • CD or DVD disk (something you don’t want back)
  • Orange construction paper
  • Black construction paper
  • Yellow construction paper
  • Green construction paper
  • glue
  • scissors
  • yarn or string

Using the CD has a guide make a circle out of the black and the orange paper.  Cut out the circles.  Cut out triangles for the eyes and nose and a mouth out of either the black or yellow paper.  Cut out a cressant or half circle the size of the CD out of the yellow paper.  (Just in case this last direction makes no sense at all, it will be the moon.)  Cut out a “stem” out of green construction paper.  Take the yarn and thread it throw the CD hole so that the CD can later hang from it.  Have the child clue the stem at the top of the CD.  Then glue the orange circle on that side and the black circle on the other side.  Have the child glue the moon on the black circle.  Have the child glue the face on the pumpkin.  Tada.

More Halloween Crafts

Tissue Ghosts

(The boys enjoyed this one.  It was easy and fun.  They especially enjoyed decorating the ghosts.)

Things you need:

  • 2 sheets of white tissue paper
  • ribbon or string
  • markers

Wad one sheet of tissue paper into a ball.  (Evan loved that.)  Place the tissue ball into the middle of the other sheet.  Pull the ends together, and tie the ribbon just over the ball, creating sort of a bag.  Flip it over, and decorate the head with a face.  If you want, decorate the rest of the ghost like Evan did.

Paper Pumpkins

(While I was looking for a template to make a pumpkin, I came across this site.  I was planning on cutting out the pumpkin in orange and cutting out eyes, nose, and mouth out of black or yellow.  I liked this idea better.  I let the boys color them however they wanted, and because my boys are young, I cut out the shapes and allowed them to glue them on.  The boys had a lot of fun with this.)

Tornado E and Halloween

This morning Tornado E came down the stairs dancing.  Tornado S laughed and joined him.  Not being a morning person, I secretly thanked God for Tornado S waking up earlier than Tornado E so that I could at least act perky instead of giving my why-is-it-still-dark-and-why-am-I-up look that goes along when any cheerful morning person comes into a room.  Of course, I also asked God for Tornado S to sleep in later, and I swear I heard laughing.  Got it.  Morning kids for night owl parents.  Get used to it because school is just around the corner.

Before I could even open my mouth to begin to repeat “What do you want for breakfast, waffle or muffin?” a dozen times, Tornado E shouts, “HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!  I’m ready to go trick-or-treating!!”  Pause for effect and look at the baffled Mommy.  “You’re ready for trick-or-treating!!”

I am?

“You’re dressed as a Mommy!!!”  Tornado E dances around the room to the thought of costumes and candy.  No, I did not put that many exclamation marks on there as a joke; he actually shouted everything from the top of his lungs.

I quietly and gently explained the Halloween was still over a week away, and I showed him the Halloween calendar.  It burst his bubble enough to get me to repeatedly ask him what he wanted for breakfast until he asked for pancakes.  He threatened a fit if he didn’t get his precious pancakes, and I said then throw it in your room.  Sure, he wants them now when I’m not making them, so I compromised.  I left him a dry bowl of Honey-Nut Cheerios and a glass of milk on his little table.  Eat.  Or don’t.  I don’t care.

Of course, now that Tornado E could choose to eat or not and Tornado S was starting to circle the little table like the little feeding-frenzy shark that he was, Tornado E decided to sit down and eat the Cheerios.  All the while, Tornado S is looking at me with those starving-kids-in-Africa look in his eyes.  Didn’t you eat a banana and a muffin already?  Fine, here’s your own bowl of Cheerios. 

After breakfast, I decided to show Tornado E his cape for his costume.  I am quite proud because I was able to pull it off even though I nearly destroyed the thing.  I guess I can confess to you, and if my mom reads it, she’ll wonder if I ever was listening to her the dozen times she tried to teach me to sew.

As you might remember, Tornado E is going to be a witch, and I bought black material for the “robe.”  Think angel or shepherd costume but black.  The directions mention a 7 and half inch whole.  I cut a slit as I assume that what they meant, and it seemed to me that it would be too small, so I made it bigger.  It fit right over Tornado E’s head, shoulder, and waist.  Hmm.  As the hole is in the exact middle of the material and that I thought that adding a collar might be to complicated and unmanly, I bought more material and decided to make Tornado E a cape with black lining as Tornado E and his father simultaneously suggested. 

As I was about to make the cape, I realized that the hole will still be cutting into the cape, and that I needed a folded edge to measure and cut around as the center.  I did what any person in over her head would do; I sewed the other side, making my fold.  I attempted this while my brain was somewhere else and the boys were awake and instantly drawn to the sound of the sewing machine.

Flashback moment: Imagine two young children around second and third grade.  They notice their mother didn’t put away the sewing machine, and they gather around it to investigate it.  The way it stood, yet seem to lean, forcing its energy and focal point all to the left of the machine, to the needle.  The boy suggests that he put his finger under the nail and his sister turn the dial to see how close they could get the needle to the finger.  Slowly, slowly, the sister turns the knob.  Then something happens, and her fingers slip.  The needle drives its way through the fingernail and into the boy’s finger who is screaming at the top of his lungs.  Their mother comes running, releases the boy.  She pulls him along as she demands the answer from the oldest, the girl, who stammers the whole story with agreeing wails from the brother as his finger is tended to.  The mother looks at the girl and commands, “You’re older; you should have known better.”

Ok, that’s it.  No sewing while the boys are awake.  And that is the ugliest seam ever sewn.  Thank God it’ll be on the inside.  When the boys were finally tucked in for the night, I traced out the pattern and cut it to find I got a little carried away and cut part of the seam.  Since I can hand sew pretty well, I stitched it up and used the machine on the rest of the cape.  Which turned out amazingly well. 

So I showed Tornado E his cape, and he was so excited to try it on.  I placed his witch’s hat on as well as the cape.  As I finished tying the bow around his neck, he looked dubiously at the cape, messing with its folds.  It dawned on me that he was looking for the sleeves.  I tried to explain that capes don’t have sleeves.  Giving up, I asked if he wanted to see mine.  (My mom made it for me for Halloween one year.)  I placed the cape on, settling it on my shoulders.

Tornado E: (gasps) Mommy, you’re a witch! (I nod.)  Put your hat on!

Me: I don’t have a hat.  But I have a hood on my cape.  (I gently placed on my hood with elegance practiced that Halloween.)

Tornado E: You’re not a witch!  You’re Darth Vader!  You’re Star Wars!

Ok, my son has no idea what a cape is.  I’m trying to think of a movie with a cape to show him other than Star Wars.