Today Lincoln tried very convincingly to opt out of attending a birthday party. With cake. And probably ice cream. And farm animals and games and hot chocolate and crafts and many friends from his class and a million other things he really loves and doesn't get to do that often. Forget all that crap. He didn't want to go. Why not, you ask? He had something better to do.
He wanted to stay home and dress up.
He'd already worn his Jedi robe, tunic, boots and lightsaber all morning at home and then he wore it out to the farmer's market for over an hour in 38 degree weather whilst staunchly refusing to incorporate into the getup his winter coat (which I had brought along 'just in case') because it would have ruined the authenticity of the costume. He was actually still in full Jedi regalia at the moment I found myself facing him in disbelief as he argued very eloquently for skipping the birthday party so he could stay home ALONE and dress up in more and better costumes. Costumes which he can adorn any old day. Costumes which live with him in his room and in the cracks of the couch and under the kitchen table and pretty much in every nook and cranny of his domicile. You'd think he'd get tired of the whole endeavor. You'd think it wouldn't hold a candle to the icing he loves to lick off of birthday cupcakes. I thought that. But I was wrong.
And what costumed promise in his mind trumped cake and goody bags and games and friends and all manner of fun today?
Darth. Vader.
