Sometimes Target Won't Do

My daughters’ camp has a special theme each week, something to enrich the little monkeys’ lives, a break from the daily routine. Some weeks it is a field trip to some local kid friendly destination, like the bowling alley or the zoo, but others, they stay at camp and have some unique activity, like “DJ Dance Party” or “Carnival’, complete with pony rides. A few weeks ago, it was “Halloween in July,” which was hands down the best idea of what to do in the summer. What kid doesn’t love Halloween? They could wear costumes to camp and have games and haunted houses and creepy snacks and little crappy toys from Oriental Trading Company.

But back to the costumes for a minute. I love Halloween, and have been making costumes for my daughters for most of their trick or treating experiences. And not the usual hobo or ghost either. These are elaborate and grand and jimmy rigged, because I can’t sew for shit. They are held together by massive amounts of hot glue and hidden paper clips and rubber bands and will fall apart if you look at them funny. These costumes are not practical; once a friend of mine joked that she has never seen my kids in a costume that allowed them to sit. Last Halloween, my youngest daughter, S, was a piece of bacon. E, my oldest daughter, was a walking encyclopedia. I assumed we would just take those precarious creations out and wear them again, and lucky for me, S was more than happy to don her crispy costume, complete with fried egg headband, once more. But E had other ideas.

E’s friend A (it sounds like Sesame Street, I am aware, thank you) had a dilemma. She was staying with her father the night before the costume party, but all her costume stuff was at her mother’s house. A came home from camp with us that afternoon, and was pretty bummed that she didn’t have anything to wear for the next day. I told her I was pretty sure we could come up with something, since we have so much dress up clothes and other crap at home. E chimed in and said she didn’t want to be an encyclopedia again, she really wanted to be something with A. I asked if she had anything in mind, and of course, she did. Conjoined twins. E loves conjoined twins, even more than she loves learning about the Holocaust or volcanoes or other natural anomalies and disasters. A loved it. S didn’t know what it meant. We were driving right next to a Wal-Mart, so I made them swear they would wear whatever we bought for the costume if I stopped, which they promised to do, in unison, before I swerved into the parking lot.

We walked into Wal-Mart with a purpose, to find the biggest and cheapest clothes we could. I knew we were in the right place, and in less than a minute, I found the women’s section. Let me just say, I had no idea that one could obtain a garment in size 4X. But there they were, 1X through 4X t-shirts and skirts, elastic waist khakis and jeans. I don’t like to think of myself as cheap, but I didn’t want to buy this stuff if it wasn’t going to fit. So I made the girls stand together while I slipped a really big shirt over their heads. They were both able to fit in the 4X together, so it was onto the next challenge, finding a bottom. I had no interest in one child per leg, since I wanted them to be able to actually walk. Luckily, I found a gigantic pink flowing skirt with a forgiving elastic waist. I made them try that on too, so we could see how they looked and moved. It is no small feat to keep three girls quiet under such circumstances. E and A practiced walking together awkwardly, and then I took their shirt and skirt off them, careful to not knock either of them over, before run-walking to the self check out.

Of all the odd things I have ever done in the name of motherhood, having my child and her friend try on fat clothes in public to make sure they fit was near the top of the list. I don’t even think a conjoined twin costume is politically correct, but at least they weren’t in black face, and I was pretty confident no pro conjoined twin fans would protest it. Fortunately, I was able to outfit the two of them for around twenty bucks, so at least it was affordable, even as a joke. E and A kept their promise and wore it the next day, and only fell over once or twice. And no, they were not able to sit down.