In one afternoon, my son can transform from the Incredible Hulk to G.I. Joe to Darth Vader. Then instantly revert back to my little boy with the shed of a costume and cape, faster than a speeding bullet.
Buzz is big on pretend play. His imagination carries him to galaxies beyond, yet he’s intently focused. When he has a set character idea, he wants to see the story develop through to fruition like a driven lead. It’s not the same if it’s not just right, and there is no rest until it’s on his own terms.
Yet, even with all the old getup from Halloweens past, designated costumes and select accessories to choose from in a vast arsenal that tends to overflow in a familiar pile, we simply don’t have every disguise for every occasion.
Like your friendly neighborhood Spiderman.
There are Ninja Turtles and skeletons and Buzz Lightyear galore, but alas no webbed avenger. And so, as only the best can do properly, he takes matters into his own hands.
As such, Buzz retreats to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. I hear him opening dresser drawers, and shoveling clothes. I picture him biting his bottom lip, deep in creation. A few minutes later, he emerges.
With a pair of Spiderman underwear over his head, his mask. Thankfully clean. His eyes peering through the corners of the leg holes.
“I am Spiderman”, he says. I believe him.