Today was Hollis's Thanksgiving Feast at school. Let me start this story by another story about how Hollis did not want to be an Indian. All of the three year old classes were having their "feast" and singing some songs for their parents. They were all to dress up like Indians. So we sent pillowcases (the height of Indian fashion apparently) which they decorated, they made feathered headpieces and beaded necklaces (with which to later buy back Manhattan). On Wednesday, a note came home explaining all this. As Hollis and I sat in the car after school talking about there program, I notice that tears start to well up in his eyes. After some prodding, he says that he does not want to be an Indian because he is a firefighter. I spent the rest of the afternoon convincing him that he could be an Indian firefighter. I even busted out the Google to show him pictures of Indians. He seemed satisfied. Come to find out, this same conversation took place early that day with his teacher. I have no idea why dressing up in a pillowcase and pretending to be an Indian for 30 minutes warrants tears, but I guess to him it did.
So today was the big day. I dropped him off with wishes of "have fun being an Indian" and headed to the grocery for feast supplies. The other mothers and I cut up enough fruit to justify the term "feast". Then the little Indians were ready. Each class marched in with their costumes and sat down to their feast of fruit, muffins, goldfish crackers and apple juice, reminiscent of the first Thanksgiving to be sure. I noticed that while Hollis had agreed to wear the costume and headgear, all the other children had beaded necklaces that he lacked. I decided not to ask, because I was afraid he had lost or forgotten it and didn't want to cause a panic. Later, though, my curiosity got the best of me and I asked were his necklace was..."In my bag" Why? "I not want to wear it". Okay, stubborn.
Then with much fanfare and excitement, the singing began. Parents who had settled into sets earlier, realized they were not in prime videotaping position and jockyed for a seat on the floor up front. I mistakenly left my seat where Hollis had seen me and moved to the front (for a video for you). Hollis spent the whole performance looking for me. About midway through, in between songs, I hear a familiar voice say, "Daddy, where is Mommy?" and I thought certainly that was not Hollis. You guessed it...it was. A few minutes later, after I crawled (literally) across the floor to get to the side he was on, he finally spotted me and sang the last verse of the last song. Here is the little Indian Chief in all his glory. Notice he is no longer wearing his feathered headpiece...or beads.
**sorry for the sideways video...I hate it when people do that too! I took the video and then couldn't figure out how to rotate it.