just a hat

It's just a hat. A $3.00 hat from the 99 Cent store. And yet, it's become the most coveted object in my home.

In theory, it's Ian's hat. When he wears it, he's Mr. Cool Dude, or "MisterI," as he's named himself (said out loud, it's "Mystery"). 

Clearly, my kid knows how to rock a hat. But everything is fluid in this household, including clothes and accessories. I've been known to borrow Charles' longjohns for winter hiking; Charles takes my scarves and backpacks; Ian steals my moccasins, and Seth ... well, Seth wants whatever belongs to his brother.

When Seth puts on the hat, he's a cowboy. He gallops around the house, yelling "Yee-haw!" (as any good cowboy does), and "Look, Mommy! I'm a cowboy! See my cowboy hat?"

When I ask him "Isn't that Ian's hat?" he replies, "No, Mommy. It's a cowboy hat. I'm a cowboy. It's my hat." (I like the logic there.)

So ... just a hat? No way. In this house, it's a gateway to a world of cowboys and cool dudes. We really should fork over the three bucks and buy a second one, don'tcha think?