Wax Museum

Last Tuesday night, amidst the usual evening chaos (scrounging for dinner/homework/backpack emptying/form signing/lunch packing/laundry folding/washing/brushing/grooming kids before bedtime arguments start), MGM (9) informed me that he needed a costume for a school project. 

Before Thursday.

His class would be presenting a Wax Museum project, which apparently is a Thing nowadays. (When I mentioned this to my co-workers, all unanimously chimed in about their kids’ Wax Museum experiences).

Here’s the idea: each kid would choose an explorer and dress as him/her. They would pretend  to be wax figures in a museum and museum goers would press a “button” to bring the character to life. The wax figure would then recite a narrative about his/her adventures.

Back to Tuesday night: I asked MGM about what other kids were going to be. The near-unanimous answer seemed to be astronauts.

Except for MGM, who decided to be Hugh Glass, who is the character Leonardo DiCaprio plays in “The Revenant.”

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This guy.

(Why, oh, why, did he choose this? He hasn’t even seen the movie).

Luckily, we had an old Robin Hood Halloween costume that my sister made for her own kids many years ago stashed away in our laundry room closet. I was able to re-purpose the costume’s shirt and pants, plus fashion a “bear claw” necklace from a fake tooth thingy and a piece of cord. The final touch was a fur collar that MGM wore as a headband.

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It turned out better than expected, especially on short notice.

The best part, though, was that I decided I would be a patron of the Wax Museum. It was in the middle of Thursday afternoon and if I tried hard enough, I could re-configure my schedule to attend.

But the unflattering secret is that there have been many similar events over the past four years where I haven’t re-configured my schedule to attend. Either from real or perceived busyness, I didn’t make them a priority. And I am sad about that.

With my recent changes and priority shifting, however, it was clear that I would show up.

When I arrived at the school, MGM was in the middle of a recitation of Hugh’s story, which included jerking to life and roaring like a bear when his imaginary button was pressed. (This was extremely popular among the younger kids).

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When he saw me, he stopped mid-sentence: “Mom! You came to the Wax Museum! This is the first time you’ve ever come to anything! I’m so happy!

Cue simultaneous happiness and sadness on my part. My eyes felt leaky.

I listened to every single figure in that museum. Even with a glut of astronauts, it was really fun. I was proud of MGM and in the end, I loved the originality of his choice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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