Back when I was in fifth grade, our gifted class did a month-long study of clowns. I remember doing a book report on Emmett Kelly’s biography, and even learning how to juggle. At the end of our clown class we had to perform in front of the school cafeteria during lunch time. And really, what better entertainment is there than dressing up a bunch of brainy, socially outcast nerds in bad clown makeup and forcing them to perform bad magic tricks and juggling acts in front of their peers as they eat lunch?
I, however, stood out because I had an authentic clown wig. My Aunt Linda bought it for me. It was a giant red, white and blue afro. Among a sea of my badly costumed classmates, I at least looked the part.
Those of you who have been reading my blog long enough should know two things by now; one, that I never throw anything away, and two, that the wig is going to make a comeback by the end of this entry. If you knew both of those things, add two points to your score.
This week is “goofy” week at Mason’s school — you remember, weeks made up of “silly sock day” or “inside out shirt day”. Monday was “pajama day” and today was “crazy hair day”. Mason’s hair is so short right now that there’s not much that could be done with it. However, last night I remembered the wig, and after a bit of digging in boxes out in the garage, I found it.
It’s a bit thinner in spots than I remembered it being, but for being twenty plus years old, it’s really not in bad shape. Mason proudly wore the wig to school today. I’ll bet my Aunt Linda never would have imagined her nephew’s kid would someday be wearing that thing to school.