Miscommunication reins supreme in our house. It seems that almost all of our problems boil down to something being interpreted wrong. Today’s conversation with Mitchell is no exception.
This morning I decided to talk to him about Halloween. It’s coming up, and depending on what he wants to be, my procrastinating butt might need a head start making his costume. So I showed him some pictures of his previous [adorable] Halloween costumes. I read him a book about costumes. I told him he could dress up as whatever he wanted and go trick-or-treating. I started naming off things that he could dress up as, such as the Man in the Yellow Hat, or Curious George, or a minion. Well, something got lost in toddler translation, because next thing I know he’s running up to me with his stuffed minion and a pair of shorts and telling me the minion needed to get dressed up. He tried to put shorts on Curious George, too, but the only thing that would fit was a pair of underwear. For the rest of the morning, he walked around the house looking for candy, saying that they were all dressed up. Whoops! Maybe should have waited a while to talk about Halloween!