A couple of years ago the Dancing Sunshine, my hubby's former father-daughter group, had come up with a plan for a costume contest at Induction Camp. I at first thought it would be too much. I mean, camping, sleeping bags, bugs and now, costumes?? But it turned out very nice, and apparently, is now a tradition at our October Induction Camp. Shooting Star Rose has a very sensible head on her shoulders. I explained to her that if she took her NEW costume to camp, it might be ruined before "real Hallowe'en". She saw the wisdom in this and brought her old Tinkerbell costume, complete with gold shoes. Blue Butterfly arrived with her daughter's Princess Jasmine costume, which was a little loose, Blue Butterfly complained. When the drums sounded for the event's start, the moms hurriedly dressed their daughters, who were excited to have an excuse to be "beautiful". Tinkerbell's skirt turned out to be over-stretched. It hung way below Shooting Star Rose's panty line. With her tears bubbling at the brim, Shooting Star Rose stood very still as Rainbow Sparkle tried various versions of string, hair clips and finally, duct tape, to secure her skirt to modest levels. When Shooting Star Rose tore off toward the costume parade arena, I noted that in fixing her skirt, I had gathered her skirt up extremely high. Where the tops of her panties were securely hidden, the bottoms were exposed at every wind gust. Troubled, I turned to Blue Butterfly for comfort. Blue Butterfly was equally transfixed at the sight of her daughter's Princess top, which threatened to slip open at any given second. Our girls were giggly and wiggly and found a place in the growling circle of costumed children, dotted with over-zealous adults in wigs and make up. We commiserated a bit on our daughters' potential fashion fall outs. They paraded around and around in cheerful style. I was glad when it was over.
Later that evening, we participated in the annual ritual of naming, or official beginning of our Adventure Guides life. We announce to the waiting crowd our Guide names and are welcomed into the bosom of the Guides with a toss of ceremonial corn into the bonfire. It was the moment I had been dreading since my christening by my daughter as Rainbow Spongebob Banana Head. I've been relieved somewhat when she abbreviated my name to Rainbow Sparkle. We stepped onto the stage and were invited to announce our names. I smiled and said, "Rainbow Sparkle," (Goodbye, Rainbow Spongebob! I thought). Our Federation Captain, Running Spring, looked expectantly at Shooting Star Rose. Encouraged by my smile, my daughter stepped forward and took a deep breath:
"Sparkly Dolphin"
Sparkly Dolphin?
What happened to Shooting Star Rose, I asked her later.
She replied, "Oh that's my tribe name." Always eager for a reason, I pressed her to explain the switch. "Oh, Sparkly Dolphin? That's my stage name." Well, now I had my reason.
Weeks later, I commented to her, "Shooting Star Rose…" she corrected me and said, no, Sparkly Dolphin. Or just Sparkle Dolphin. Or just Dolphin. Because she likes Dolphins. She reads about them.
What about Shooting Star Rose? "Oh, that's my old name."
I've since let it go.
