Thursday, May 20, 2010
A few weeks ago, Little Mister attended a friend's birthday party and received a lovely princess crown from the Disney-loving birthday girl. To my husband's very manly dismay, we've hardly been able to get it off of him. He wears it both at home and abroad, reveling in his adornment.
To try to make it seem more boyish, I started calling him "Prince Seth" which ironically sounds just like "Princess." Hubby was not impressed.
This morning Prince Seth came sobbing to me with the sad broken remains of his plastic birthday crown in his little fingers. With a heavy heart I told him it could not be fixed but must be thrown away, thinking in the back of my head how happy Hubby would be at this fortuitous turn of events.
But the look on my son's face wrenched my heart. "Now I can't be a Prince," he said forlornly.
"Tell you what," I said, "I have some gold fabric left over downstairs. How about I make you a crown like Max had when he was King of all the Wild Things?"
My small son smiled through his tears.
So I put the baby in his playpen, started a video for my daughter and sat down at my sewing machine. Years ago I used to make church banners and stored away in my stacks of old fabric, I found gold lamé, quilt batting and white felt: everything I needed.
Now my son is Prince of all the Wild Things. If only all childhood heartbreak could be solved so easily.