I'm not certain which was more troubling, the fact that Captain Chaos' preschool teacher gave my daughter a cup of "pumpkin juice" at the class Halloween party last Thursday, only to watch her slop the orange liquid down the front of a brand new white turtleneck sweater, or her admission to me that she knew better, because for two months the Captain has bypassed any juice offered to her during snack time, preferring instead a cup of water.  Either way, I did not appreciate the cavalier attitude demonstrated by a woman wearing a court jester's costume when she blithely commented, "Oh well, I guess it's time for some bleach!"  I did experience mildly juvenile satisfaction when this weeble-shaped teacher admitted that a kindergartner stopped her in the hall to ask if her costume was filled with air.   Out of the mouths of babes.

 

When I arrived home I decided that there was no need to take the Captain out of her Halloween costume since it was going into the wash later that night.  Two homeschooled students were at my doorstep, waiting to resume their weekly study of Romeo & Juliet, so I allowed Captain Chaos to run in the backyard with her brothers.  What's a little dirt compared to a large orange stain on the breast of her sweater?  And do you see some foreshadowing in that question?

 

We weren't five minutes into act II when a blood curdling scream erupted in the back yard and Major Havoc ran in to say, "The Captain has blood!"  I dashed to the patio door to meet General Mayhem, who was walking the Captain into the house, a river of blood running from her left nostril.  I discovered while wrestling the screaming girl to the floor and attempting to stop the flow of blood, that General Mayhem had been sitting on a TWO MAN SWING, but did not wish to share the second seat with his brother.  Major Havoc, the offended party in the great swing debacle of 2008, became so enraged with his older brother that he grabbed the red plastic airplane swing that hung next to the General and attempted to launch the aircraft into orbit.  Forgetting for the moment that the plane was attached to a metal pole by four strong ropes and would return towards him, he threw the craft as hard as his six-year-old arms would allow.  Right into the Captain's face.

 

Shocked and bloodied, the crying girl grabbed at her face, smearing blood and snot from her hair line to her chin.  It ran down the front of her orange stained sweater, down the front of her cheerleader outfit, and down the front her new white tights.  Yes, I had finally found the perfect use for the Chicago Cubs cheerleader's outfit that the Boss found at a thrift store for $1.50.  It was the Captain's Halloween costume, probably the one and only time she'd have a reason to wear it.   And it was covered in blood.

 

Oh, I thought about not washing it.  It was a frightful sight, befitting the occasion.  It was also the perfect metaphor for the Cubs' goatless 2008 season.  But, I ran the entire outfit through several washings.  The jumper came out clean.  The tights came out clean.  The orange stain disappeared, and the light blood stains that did not leave the sweater were hidden by the jumper.  All was well.  The next day the girl was running house-to-house, always the last in line behind seven other kids, quietly waiting for candy, and helping herself to handfuls of goodies from offered bowls.  Home owner after home owner encouraged her to take lots of the sugary goodness after the kids in front of her were given one or two pieces.  Her haul was easily three times that of her brothers' combined.   

 

Good things do come to those who wait.  And are really, really cute.