Black as My Soul

I just want to state for the record that Paolo is not depressed, planning to fire-bomb his daycare, or currently worshipping the devil. I know, I know, he has dressed in black from head to toe every day this week, but it is not due to a fixation with The Cure or Johnny Cash, although either would be pretty cool. Strike that - that would be freaking awesome. Just imagine some innocent librarian commenting on his funereal look, to which he responds, "Ma'am, until this world turns back, I'm the man in black." Then again, do I really want my three-year-old to be able to out-cool me?

No, the real reason Paolo wears black is Darth Vader. (You probably saw that coming.) When Paolo turned three, we festooned the house with Star Wars decor, but omitted Darth Vader because he was too scary. A mere seven months later, Paolo gets all up in my face and breathes like an obscene phone call, "Hoooooooooh. Haaaaaaaaah. I'm Dark Vader!" And every morning I struggle in vain to interest Paolo in his other clothes, clothes that say, "Hey! I'm a fun-loving little boy," as opposed to "Repent! The kingdom of heaven is at hand."

Unfortunately, the tough personna is more than a little diminished by the white and blue striped pillowcase that tops every outfit. For reasons unknown, this Dark Sider doesn't wear the sparkly red cape his grandma made him specially so he would stop wearing pillowcases held together by chip clips - clips which, I might add, he loses at school nearly every day. So Paolo, one way or another, this Darth Vader business has got to stop. Our chips are getting stale.