Dear Theme Day,
You crafty little rascal, I have to hand it to you. You always seem to appear at the most inopportune moments, and I inevitably find myself confronted with your demands through a crumpled note nestled in my child’s backpack, wedged between the school lunch menu and the sign-up sheet for the upcoming family fun night.
- “Wednesday is Hawaiian Beach Day!”
- “Thursday is Dress Like a Reading Superhero Day!”
- “Monday is Pajamas Day!”
- “Friday is Wear a Hat, Sunglasses, and a Random Article of Clothing Your Child Definitely Doesn’t Own Day!”
I see that note and my initial reaction is one of goodwill. I convince myself that I should dig out a pair of sunglasses, even though winter is still hanging on. I tell myself I need to set a reminder for Superhero Day because crafting that costume will take some time. I promise to ensure that my kid’s sole fitting pair of pajamas, which doesn’t resemble something a raccoon might have dragged through the alley, is clean.
But let’s get real here: I have a job, a family, friends, and a life that doesn’t revolve around catering to your peculiar requests, Theme Day. The truth is, I’m just not that into you.
Then, just when I’ve almost forgotten about your existence—feeling accomplished that the kids are up early, eating breakfast, and ready to catch the bus—my son looks up from his toast and asks, “What should I wear for my superhero costume today, Mom? It needs to relate to the book we’re reading.”
And there you are, lurking in my kitchen, laughing at my expense. My partner suggests, “Why not just throw him in a T-shirt with a superhero on it?” But I’m already on a mad hunt through the basement, sweating bullets, while my son is in a panic that his costume will be a disaster. “No, no, it’s not lame! It’s going to be unique! It’s going to be creative!” I tell him, as I’m cutting uneven eyeholes in a bandana to fashion a mask, frantically safety-pinning felt to whatever I can find, and hunting for anything that might resemble a cape (yes, this sequined shawl will suffice).
In the chaos, my son chimes in, “Mom, what about gloves? What about this stuffed snake I can wear around my neck?”
“Yes,” I say, “Perfect!”
But you and I both know, Theme Day, that it isn’t perfect. We know that the costume’s imperfections somehow reflect my abilities as a parent, and that my worth as a mother translates into my worth as a human being. It seems we haven’t evolved too far beyond the pressures of the 1960s after all. You revel in reminding me of my shortcomings, you sadistic little monster.
I thought I’d left you behind when we lived abroad for a year, but no, you stalked us to a tiny school in the northernmost parts of Europe for Dress Up Like a Character From Your Favorite Fairy Tale Day. Seriously, Theme Day? Couldn’t you give us a break for at least one year?
And let’s not even discuss the “wolf costume” I created using a stained grey shirt, grey pants, and a brown scarf tied to my son’s belt loop for a tail. That was truly one of my less-than-stellar moments as a parent. You put me to shame on an international scale, Theme Day, and for that, I cannot forgive you.
Yes, I know the kids adore you. My son eagerly anticipates your arrival. You break up the monotony of the school day, shaking up the routine of worksheets and testing. Perhaps if the education system were less about strict order and more about creativity and exploration, we wouldn’t need you so much. But alas, here we are.
So, despite my disdain, I find myself scrambling to piece together a costume at the last minute, often just ten minutes before the bus arrives. Somehow, I manage to send my costumed child off to school, beaming in his cobbled-together, vaguely book-themed superhero outfit, eyeholes askew.
In this moment, I’m supposed to look into those shining, grateful eyes and declare that it’s all worth it. That I take back everything negative I’ve said about you, and that I’ll treat you with the respect you deserve next time.
But instead, on behalf of all the frazzled parents out there, I say this: Eat dirt and disappear, Theme Day. EAT. DIRT. AND. DISAPPEAR.
For more thoughts on the ups and downs of parenting, check out this insightful post here. If you’re considering at-home insemination, you might find what you need at this reputable retailer, and for additional resources on pregnancy and home insemination, head over to this excellent blog.
In summary, Theme Days are a mixed bag that often leave parents scrambling, but they do create a bit of joy for the kids, even if they come with a side of stress for us grown-ups.
Leave a Reply