My Pagliacci

The boys and I have been discussing potential Halloween costumes ad nauseum. What exactly does ad nauseaum mean? That you're feeling so sick of the topic you feel nauseated?
Well, I do.
Three of them have changed their minds every day, sometimes multiple changes per day. I feel like I need to follow them around with a pen and notepad.
"What's that, sir? Scratch Spiderman? You want to be The Flash now? Okay."
The fourth individual, Cooper, refuses to wear clothes, period, so I'm not going to focus too much on persuading him to wear some sort of enveloping costume, or he'll freak. He can go as A Baby.
Last night, during our bedtime confab, I held them in conference and was like Henry Kissinger, working toward a final agreement. Although Halloween is not until the 31st, time is running out because the boys have a big school production next week, and they have to wear their costumes. Well, except for Wyatt, who has been cast as a giant squirrel. Harry's teachers asked that we parents steer the children toward circus-like costumes, or cute classic animals, so that everything looks congruous for their big number. Therefore, since Harry announced he wanted to be a Werewolf for Halloween, I figured I would have to buy him an additional costume for the musical.
Today, I took Harry and Cooper to Target, and found one clown costume, one Obi-Wan, and one Anakin Skywalker. Perfect! I was relieved and happy, that is until we got in the car and started to drive home, and Harry started badgering me about the Werewolf costume. Harry is a child, but he is also a professional badgerer. When he grows up, he should consider a career in law enforcement or government torture; he'll be able to crack the most hardened criminals. He gets an idea into his head and then won't let it go. To say it's "challenging" would be a lie; it is annoying as hell. After 20 minutes of being harassed, I thought my head was going to explode, which would have been a spooky pre-Halloween experience.
I tried to stay positive. I just kept driving, and thinking, "Looks like I picked the wrong week to detox."
We made it home intact, and Harry put on his clown costume. He has been wearing it all afternoon, and it's really hard to get upset with him when he's yelling at you with that pointy hat on. He looks funny!

That said, I now completely understand why so many people think clowns are scary.
I'm probably going to have nightmares tonight.

Baby knows best.