Tragically, the lady and her husband had the combined IQ of a Raisinet.
For you see, “Toddler Small” was apparently code for “Rumpelstiltskin-sized.” The costume was horribly tight, too short, and in general, an unmitigated sartorial disaster for the little boy. “Oh noes!” they cried. “This costume is TOO SMALL.”
But all was not lost! The lady and her husband were OPTIMISTS. “Ain’t no thang,” they told themselves, “we’ll just return the ‘Toddler Small’ costume and get it in the equally indecipherable 'Toddler Large’ size!”
Alas, the "Toddler Small" costume was not returnable --as the package had been opened-- and the store was sold out of "Toddler Large", as was
EVERY OTHER WEBSITE IN THE HISTORY OF THE INTERNET every other store in the kingdom. Except for one, selling it at twice the price, and charging an obscene amountof money for shipping.
The lady and her husband were not happy. This was not supposed to be an expensive endeavor. The lady thought about all the things the money spent on TWO IDENTICAL DAMN COSTUMES could have bought…like food for the family, magic beans, or a few pairs of the adorable flats Old Navy has been carrying lately. But since they were very, very stupid people, they stuck with the plan, and ordered the bigger costume.
FedEx truck messengers arrived swiftly, bearing the “Toddler Large” costume. The lady pulled it out of the box and attempted to wrangle her son into the outfit. As it turned out, he was wise beyond his years, and wasn’t so keen on the idea of trying on his second spangled jumpsuit in as many weeks.
The lady cajoled him with promises of
ice cream and a Thin Mint cookie whole wheat crackers and organic cottage cheese, only to discover that this time around, the costume was TOO BIG. Off it went.
“Motherfucker,” muttered the lady, relieved that her tousle-haired lad was happily ensconced in his sugary treats and paying no attention to her colorful language.
She turned around, half-expecting to see three bears and a golden-haired little girl sneaking around her kitchen making porridge. And she knew what she had to do.
After peeling her son off the ceiling (sugar and chocolate before bedtime was a dubious parenting decision on her part), hosing him down and getting him to sleep, she pulled out her sewing basket. By which this narrator means “a free hotel sewing kit that she KEEPS in a basket with some other random crap.”
Now, the lady cannot sew at all. (The last time she tried, she wound up with a sewing machine needle CLEAR THROUGH HER FINGER and a one-way ticket to the ER where a comedian/doctor cracked jokes about whether or not she'd need STITCHES. Oh, the hilarity!) And granted, this was not the most important thing in the world. But she had to finish what she'd started, and damned if she was going to have her kid wandering around in some too-long crushed velvet jumpsuit, looking like some tiny ABBA reject.
No, the lady would fix the costume, and make it fit her little boy...JUST RIGHT.
As the night wore on, she cut here and sewed there. She took the belt from the too-small costume and sewed it onto the large one. She hemmed, she pinned. And then a funny thing happened: She realized she was doing an okay job at this whole tailoring thing. She began to fancy herself a real designer, and started feverishly muttering to herself. Phrases like “fierce” and “hot tranny mess” involuntarily escaped her lips…
Soon enough, she was done. And it looked…not too bad. Tune in next time for the finished product (and complete costume). If you need the lady between now and then, she'll be filling out her application for next season's Project Runway and stalking Christian Siriano downtown.