morph

There are few days that I see the kids more excited than this.  I slide the magazine across the counter stopping perfectly in front of Wyatt, who is sitting on a kitchen stool. 

No, it's not a freakishly early Christmas catalog, which by the way, if I see another Christmas display before October 1st I will go all momma-crazy on that thing, ripping it to shreds in front of innocent children, screaming incoherently, until someone from the Target security team has to drag me away and ban me.

On second thought, banishment from Target would be probably the worst day in my life.

So, back to the catalog.  Wyatt glanced down at the catalog, looking a bit confused, and then moved his eyes up to mine asking "Is this from the birthday party store?".  "Yes!"  I replied, "but it's the Halloween costume catalog."

I think there was a mutual gasp from the boys as they grabbed the catalog and settled into the couch to discuss potential Halloween costumes for the next half an hour.

They stopped on the page with morphsuits. 

Henry wanted one so bad last year, but they were out of his size... or so I told him that.  I mean, seriously, I don't want to own a lime green lycra suit that outlines every part of his body and I especially won't want to get one that he'd wear after Halloween, in so that I have to explain to perfectly good strangers that 'my son's in there... and yes, he's feeling fine'.

The boys scanned over the color options and read and reread over the description.

"It says here that you can even drink still wearing it, that would be awesome!"  Henry says.  He ponders that for a moment and says in his drifting off, quieter voice... "that means, if you can drink in well then you should be able to pee out..."

"How cool is that?!"

And that is the number one reason my 8 year old son will not be wearing a morphsuit for Halloween this year,
or ever.