We lost this year.
We lost to the galaxy sucking, light bending, gravitational singularity of Disney, of princesses, of mer-creatures and their underwater a cappella.
I suppose it shouldn't surprise me that Emmeline wanted a store-bought Ariel princess costume, considering I hauled her to every Little Mermaid sing-along at the Castro.
But she refused to let Dana or me make a mermaid costume for her. Doesn't she know her parents would joyfully spend night and day cobbling together something home made and one-of-a-kind and historically quirky and inspiring? That Halloween to a pair of seam people is like Christmas to her?
But who knows, maybe that's precisely why she rejected the idea, rejected ... us?
In the end, I wasn't about to forbid her to wear a princess costume (Did you just hear that? Every time a girl buys a princess get-up, Walt Disney's body unfreezes a little more). But I also wasn't about to let Halloween pass without breaking out the sewing machine.
So this year, she's getting two costumes, and one of them is for me.
I've always wanted to make her a Sound of Music play outfit out of curtains, and I was inspired by the idea that the original movie cast will be on Oprah later this month (Calendar? Marked!). So I headed to our local thrift store, sifted through the curtain offerings and found only one suitable selection:
The fabric was darker than I wanted, but with a splash of pink, I think it worked perfectly. I need to adjust the bib a little bit -- it rides too high on her chest -- but the skirt works and is perfect for hiking around at our favorite spots.
It's also apparently perfect for jumping.
And sidewalk renditions of Do, Re, Mi.
And for karate kicks. If only she'd aim them at that pesky little mermaid.