Yesterday at a Fazoli’s in Bowling Green, Kentucky I had to tell the counter/ food prep staff that they were out of soap in the bathroom. I would like to think that the soap ran out during some kind of big bathroom rush that happened AFTER the last female employee washed her hands, but there is much uncertainty, as the restaurant was not busy and well after lunch rush, and there was about one female employee. Odds are she was the last one in. Out. guh.
Birdy had a monkey costume. A damn cute monkey costume. A damn cute monkey costume that she wore all day on Tuesday at daycare where she learned how to trick-or-treat proper-like. A damn cute monkey costume so damn cute and special that she made an extra phone call to my brother and sister-in-law to tell them all about it before dinner last night.
A damn cute monkey costume that must have been made of molten lava or creepy crawly bugs when A. went to put it on her after supper. She wouldn’t even let one foot get in the one fuzzy little leg. NOoooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOONOTWearMonkeySuuuuuuuuuuuuit! with the wailing and the kicking and the tears.
So A. said, “That’s fine. But if you want to go trick-or-treating, you need to dress up.”
And she did. All by herself. She put on a tutu, a hat knit by my friend S., some butterfly wings, and one red glove.
We decided her costume was “Age Two.”