This morning Tornado E came down the stairs dancing. Tornado S laughed and joined him. Not being a morning person, I secretly thanked God for Tornado S waking up earlier than Tornado E so that I could at least act perky instead of giving my why-is-it-still-dark-and-why-am-I-up look that goes along when any cheerful morning person comes into a room. Of course, I also asked God for Tornado S to sleep in later, and I swear I heard laughing. Got it. Morning kids for night owl parents. Get used to it because school is just around the corner.
Before I could even open my mouth to begin to repeat “What do you want for breakfast, waffle or muffin?” a dozen times, Tornado E shouts, “HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!! I’m ready to go trick-or-treating!!” Pause for effect and look at the baffled Mommy. “You’re ready for trick-or-treating!!”
“You’re dressed as a Mommy!!!” Tornado E dances around the room to the thought of costumes and candy. No, I did not put that many exclamation marks on there as a joke; he actually shouted everything from the top of his lungs.
I quietly and gently explained the Halloween was still over a week away, and I showed him the Halloween calendar. It burst his bubble enough to get me to repeatedly ask him what he wanted for breakfast until he asked for pancakes. He threatened a fit if he didn’t get his precious pancakes, and I said then throw it in your room. Sure, he wants them now when I’m not making them, so I compromised. I left him a dry bowl of Honey-Nut Cheerios and a glass of milk on his little table. Eat. Or don’t. I don’t care.
Of course, now that Tornado E could choose to eat or not and Tornado S was starting to circle the little table like the little feeding-frenzy shark that he was, Tornado E decided to sit down and eat the Cheerios. All the while, Tornado S is looking at me with those starving-kids-in-Africa look in his eyes. Didn’t you eat a banana and a muffin already? Fine, here’s your own bowl of Cheerios.
After breakfast, I decided to show Tornado E his cape for his costume. I am quite proud because I was able to pull it off even though I nearly destroyed the thing. I guess I can confess to you, and if my mom reads it, she’ll wonder if I ever was listening to her the dozen times she tried to teach me to sew.
As you might remember, Tornado E is going to be a witch, and I bought black material for the “robe.” Think angel or shepherd costume but black. The directions mention a 7 and half inch whole. I cut a slit as I assume that what they meant, and it seemed to me that it would be too small, so I made it bigger. It fit right over Tornado E’s head, shoulder, and waist. Hmm. As the hole is in the exact middle of the material and that I thought that adding a collar might be to complicated and unmanly, I bought more material and decided to make Tornado E a cape with black lining as Tornado E and his father simultaneously suggested.
As I was about to make the cape, I realized that the hole will still be cutting into the cape, and that I needed a folded edge to measure and cut around as the center. I did what any person in over her head would do; I sewed the other side, making my fold. I attempted this while my brain was somewhere else and the boys were awake and instantly drawn to the sound of the sewing machine.
Flashback moment: Imagine two young children around second and third grade. They notice their mother didn’t put away the sewing machine, and they gather around it to investigate it. The way it stood, yet seem to lean, forcing its energy and focal point all to the left of the machine, to the needle. The boy suggests that he put his finger under the nail and his sister turn the dial to see how close they could get the needle to the finger. Slowly, slowly, the sister turns the knob. Then something happens, and her fingers slip. The needle drives its way through the fingernail and into the boy’s finger who is screaming at the top of his lungs. Their mother comes running, releases the boy. She pulls him along as she demands the answer from the oldest, the girl, who stammers the whole story with agreeing wails from the brother as his finger is tended to. The mother looks at the girl and commands, “You’re older; you should have known better.”
Ok, that’s it. No sewing while the boys are awake. And that is the ugliest seam ever sewn. Thank God it’ll be on the inside. When the boys were finally tucked in for the night, I traced out the pattern and cut it to find I got a little carried away and cut part of the seam. Since I can hand sew pretty well, I stitched it up and used the machine on the rest of the cape. Which turned out amazingly well.
So I showed Tornado E his cape, and he was so excited to try it on. I placed his witch’s hat on as well as the cape. As I finished tying the bow around his neck, he looked dubiously at the cape, messing with its folds. It dawned on me that he was looking for the sleeves. I tried to explain that capes don’t have sleeves. Giving up, I asked if he wanted to see mine. (My mom made it for me for Halloween one year.) I placed the cape on, settling it on my shoulders.
Tornado E: (gasps) Mommy, you’re a witch! (I nod.) Put your hat on!
Me: I don’t have a hat. But I have a hood on my cape. (I gently placed on my hood with elegance practiced that Halloween.)
Tornado E: You’re not a witch! You’re Darth Vader! You’re Star Wars!
Ok, my son has no idea what a cape is. I’m trying to think of a movie with a cape to show him other than Star Wars.