Thursday, January 7, 2010

Fashion Hawk

As you may know, I have a four year old son we call Hawk. He's pretty cool. As you may also know, Hawk is the name he gave himself. He insisted, for about a week, that we call him that and refused to answer to anything else. But then something came to my attention. He wasn't saying Hawk. He was saying Hulk. Like the enormous green dude. Or Mr. Hogan (who apparently does not know best). The mistake was easy to make:

My son saying the word hawk: "Huwk"
My son saying the work hulk: "Huwk"

You can see where it might be confusing. So notwithstanding the Cap'n's claim that I have been allowing our son to watch Spenser for Hire (untrue and now proven!), perhaps a name change is in order. Also, there's more. And it has to do with fashion.

Over the holidays, we were going to an event. Not fancy or formal, but neither was it one where he could where his Lego Batman shirt. So he told me he was wearing his suit. His senator suit. It's seer-sucker, blue and white striped, and light cotton. He adores it. And his blonde, blue-eyed, born-in-Alabama self looks fantastic in it. He kind of rocks it. Last Easter, he wore it to the egg hunt paired with a black basketball t-shirt and gray converse one-stars. He looked like an NBA star headed to the Hamptons for the weekend. Like he was trying to be Diddy trying to be Jay Gatsby. I indulge him in this and his other fashion experiments, because they are awesome. And also hillarious. But he wanted to wear the senator suit in sub-zero weather and that was just not going to happen.

I told him firmly no and he looked at me, lips pursed, and said: "I. AM. WEARING. A. SUIT." Then a thought came to me, maybe there's another suit, at the bottom of a big bag of hand-me-downs that were still too big for him. I pulled it off the top shelf of his closet and sure enough, there it was. The TUXEDO. It is 100% poly. Sateen lapels, vest, and stripes down the pants. With a ruffled shirt. [Backstory is that it's a $20 bridal shop size 7 tux for a ring bearer. And now this amazing thing was in my house. Yay!]

I think you know what happened next. He loved it. He put it on and pretty much didn't take it off again for five days. He went from jammies to tux to jammies back to tux as soon as he woke up in the morning. He ate his oatmeal in his tux. He played Wii in his tux. He built Lego spaceships in it. He asked me for apple juice and I was inclined to serve it him in a highball glass. When we went over to Kate and McLovin's to ring in the New Year, what did he wear? The other kids were in jeans and jammies. He did not care. Thank goodness he's never seen a Sinatra picture, he'd insist we call him Deano.

After day five, I told him the tux was starting to smell. So he put the Lego Batman shirt back on and we started out the door to the freezing cold playground. Then he says: "Just a minute! I forgot something!" and comes back a minute later. At the playground, he claims he's hot (it's 15 degrees) and we engage in the "no-you-can-not-take-off-your-coat-off-are-you-insane-it's-winter" debate. We reach the compromise of allowing him to unzip his coat. At which point I see the shimmer of black sateen. "Are you wearing the vest?" I ask. He raises one eyebrow and nods. "Why?" I implore.

I am the object of withering, four year old scorn as he says: "So I can look GOOD." He surveys my black yoga pants and fleece with something that resembles disgust and heads back over to the monkey bars. When we got home, I noticed he had lost a button on his vest. I point it out to him and the now imperfect tux was dead to him. He shook his head, sighed and casually said "Throw it out," over his shoulder as walked into his room and closed the door.

Spoken like a true fashion hawk. The name stays.

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