Great Racing Dragons

I recently came across a section of newspaper I’d been saving. On the front page of Local Section, Wednesday, December 29th, 2004, is my son, riding his bike – in a purple dragon costume. His chin is tilted up, maybe because he’s trying to see the road through the white, felt dragon teeth that cover his face. Big lavender dragon eyes are perched atop his head. Horns stick out and black “smoke” comes out of the creature’s nostrils. I see the gap wear a 6-year-old tooth used to be and the dragon snout is like the bill of a cap on my little boy’s head.

Why is he on a bike in a dragon suit? And how did this moment happen to be captured in newsprint? Blame his parents. My husband and I have no shame. Also, we were kind of bored.

During one of the long, cold days of winter break, while we were minding our own business looking out the window, we saw a reporter taking pictures of some neighbor boys racing through down the hill on their new motor scooters. We didn’t like those boys. They’re the same ones who shoot bottle rockets at us every Fourth of July.

Plus, our son is way cuter.

Those other kids didn’t deserve to be in the paper, but ours did. Problem was, he didn’t get a fancy new vehicles for Christmas – you know, because of the mortgage payment. While he happily built Bionicles and made up pretend lives, we pondered our dilemma.

How could we get OUR son in the paper?

Letting him drive the car around the block was out of the question, of course. But think, think…

Halloween!

Now there’s a holiday for you. Thanks to our friendly Wal-Mart costumer buyer and lots of child labor Somewhere Else, our kids had worn fabulous and warm Lion-King-worthy costumes. We summoned our son from his non-attention-getting fun.

“Do you still have that Dragon costume?”

“Why?”

“Put it on and go ride your bike.”

Snicker, snicker.

His face said huh, but we feed him so it’s sort of understood that he has to do what we say.

Five minutes later my boy was riding up and down the street, big ol’ dragon-head bobbing up and down in shameless self-promotion. The reporter soon abandoned the older boys and took shot after shot of our pride and joy as we convulsed with laughter from our vantage point. Seriously, I almost peed.

It’s not like he didn’t like wearing the dragon costume. He and his sister had put on those old things a dozen times since Halloween. The fact that he’d never thought to leave the house in it just proves how much he’s got to learn. And we, as his parents, are charged with the duty to teach. Are we not?

The reporter was giggling when she finally knocked on the door to get his name. The newspaper titled the picture “Dragon Racer”. There’s pride in that, but what’s really important here is that those other boys didn’t end up in the paper – and mine did.