Ever wanted to be a monk or a nun but worried that you'd grow weary of the lack of color in your wardrobe? The Red Cowl just might be your loophole. I'm not entirely sure how the monasteries would feel about the vibrant fuzzy garment but it sure would seem less dreary. Just think of it. The monks are in line, filing in to the church for the daily liturgy and then BAM like the first rose of spring, there you are! While The Magic Scarf does not actually possess enough material to cover the hooded cloak and wide sleeves needed for an adult male cowl, it certainly provides enough for your little monk in training.
Monk In Training: Mommy, I want to be a monk when I grow up.
Mommy: Well, Jim Bob, while that is certainly a noble aspiration, we aren't Orthodox or Catholic.
Monk In Training: But Mommy! I REALLY WANT TO BE A MONK AND WEAR A COWL!
Mommy: But I REALLY WANT GRANDCHILDREN!
Monk In Training: Sacrifice, mom, sacrifice.
Mommy: Fine. I'll buy you a Red Thing and you can practice being a monk.
Monk In Training: Yippee!!!
THE NEXT DAY
Mommy: Jim Bob, what are you doing?
Monk In Training: I'm playing Guitar Hero in my cool new Magic Cowl.
Mommy: But son, monks don't play Guitar Hero.
Monk In Training: They don't? Why not?
Mommy: No. They pray and worship and do chores and sometimes garden.
Monk In Training: (eyes growing wide) For the entire day?
Mommy: Uh huh.
Monk In Training: (Rips the cowl off) I don't think I really want to be a monk. I want to play Guitar Hero.
Mommy: Oh good. Grandchildren after all.
So you see, not only does The Red Thing function as a bright child's cowl for Halloween or just for fun, it also helps guide them out of their "I Want To Be A Monk" phase.*
It's warming up here in Utah, the mini golf place opened and if Garrett hadn't been a tired and whiny grumpity, we would have gone today. Maybe he'll be a happy toddler tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow he won't have already had a cold and then rolled down the stairs and thumped the side of his head on the tile thus creating an even more miserable, snot infested, little person. Here's another tidbit of information on the "Hooray it's warming up" front. It actually rained yesterday and, well, while I'm not a fan of rain, I don't mind it every once in a while and the fact that it didn't turn into snow was definitely a pleasant occurrence.
The little "I don't talk" guy has stumbled upon a couple of new words. Ish. We had a minor setback two days ago where he would not stop referring to his father as baby. It didn't matter that he's been saying dad, daddy, and dada for some time now in reference to Troy, the word just dropped out of his head. For a day. Now he's back to saying daddy although, much less often than he says baby. He really likes that word. But, he's added an emphatic NO no his repertoire as well as uh oh and meow. I realize that meow is more a sound made by a feline and less a word but we'll take what we can get with the grunter. As long as he doesn't start referring to me as sweetie or honey, I think we'll be okay.
This blog author thinks that those who dedicate their lives to the Lord by entering a monastery are noble and, obviously, self sacrificing. She just wants grandchildren, is all.