In a costume, my son is who he needs to be

Karina Bland is on vacation. This column was originally published Sept. 21, 2002. My son wears a costume every day. Spider-Man jumps out at me from beneath the dining room table. Batman stalks me to the mailbox. And I duel with Captain Hook every morning while I blow-dry my hair.

It started out cute enough when Sawyer was 2 and insisted on wearing a plastic fireman’s helmet and yellow slicker to the grocery store. Now he’s 3, and I take Buzz Lightyear to Target and the red Power Ranger to dinner.

In the summer, Sawyer wore his Spider-Man costume to the dentist, where the hygienist flossed his teeth with “webbing.”

“It’s all part of make-believe play,” says Dr. James Christie, a professor of early child education at Arizona State University.

Costumes are especially big with kids 4 to 7. As kids get older, they don’t need as many props because their imaginations are more sophisticated.

My son strips off Green Goblin and dons Spider-Man, never considering a plain pair of shorts and T-shirt in between. I understand why.

“It helps me be brave,” Sawyer says, dressed as the blue Power Ranger on the way for a CT scan of his sinuses.

In costume, he’s not someone to be told when to go to bed, not to jump on the furniture and to take his finger out of his nose. He’s faster than a speeding bullet, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.

Sometimes, I forget that he’s in costume, and I wonder at the people at the car wash smiling at us or at the kid following us around in stores, pointing at Batman.

I miss Sawyer’s face, hidden behind the stretchy red nylon mask of SpiderMan or the bright green of the Green Goblin. It’s tough to kiss a villain good morning. But I do, because it’s who he needs to be right now.