I was assigned the challenging task of selecting a Halloween costume this year.
I’m buying her costume because I can’t sew. I can glue like nobody’s business. But it’s too risky. I could construct the most amazing Mrs. Potato-head costume out of tacky glue, construction paper, foam and rubber cement; only to have it fall apart halfway through trick or treating. Because you never know when Colorado will decide that humidity should go from 0-95%. In a block and a half. Before it snows. At 95 degrees. Suddenly my child would stop getting treats. The homeowner, seeing her holding all her potato parts, would think she’s looking for a trash can.
The last two years she’s been a lion. Wearing an adorable costume my mother-in-law sewed from scratch. This year her sister will be inheriting that legacy, because the costume fits. My two-year old is too tall for a third year in that thing. Though I contemplated sending my child door to door in a costume that was high watered—it just wasn’t worth the headache of a conversation we’d have when she turned fifteen. The conversation that would start off, “How could you guys let me go out looking like that?” Then I’d have to hunt down, and destroy, all the photos of her wearing my little pony panties on her head.