Addendum to previous post about Purim costumes (which you should read to make sense of the first half of this post):
I'd been debating a suggestion that my mustashio'd husband portray Super Mario, who has a feature that would work perfectly: a pert, red newsboy cap, boasting a prominent letter "M." But we'd still need the outfit's basics, and where could we borrow those overalls? Not many farmers in our suburb, and this would be a one-wearing purchase.
My husband's sartorial taste goes to plaid flannel lumberjack shirts and "relaxed" jeans. But costuming him as Paul Bunyan is lame, and I'm not sure how I'd dress up as Babe, the Big Blue Ox. And Babe doesn't cast the flattering silhouette I normally prefer. (I could wear blue head-to-toe, paint my face and top it with fake horns on a headband, but I'd be a rather pathetic enormous beast.)
How am I going to motivate my man to trade his usual shlumpy attire for something more fanciful? My only hope might be to start the festival's imbibing with some of his favorite craft beers a little early.
If we go with the Mario scenario, my daughter says a friend of hers could perhaps loan me the pink tube dress that was her Princess Peach garb at a recent party. Since when is a tube dress appropriate for a princess? I'll think about buying some pink netting or tulle to pouf it out a little. Then I'll look like a frumpy ballerina...
Just a few more days to put this together. I think we need some further help here--please!
Now I'm going to tell you the story of the picture, below. I cannot restrain my laughter every time I see it.
Our middle child, who is very creative and independent, at age 7 decided she was going to make her own Purim costume, and that it had to be...a box of Cheerios. She searched until she found a corrugated box that was large enough to cover her body, a rectangle not-too-deep so it would look just like the Cheerios box (ie a rectangular prism). She covered it with yellow paper and painstakingly copied the lettering and bowl of oat circles she saw on the front of the cereal, including, of course, the huge "O-U," the letter U inside a circle that indicates its contents are certified kosher. She cut out holes for her head and arms, and left the bottom open for her legs.
On the night of Purim, she needed assistance to lift the box over her head, and pull her limbs through the holes. With her hair in a ponytail with matching yellow headband, off we all went to hear the reading of the Book of Esther (Megilat Esther) at the Chabad House in Seattle's University District. It's a brick building in the style of Chabad's 770 Eastern Parkway headquarters, with lots of steep stairways.
As we were walking down to the level where the Megilla would be read, my daughter, unable to see her feet, slipped and ended up on her back in the stairwell, flailing like a flipped tortoise in its shell. In the photo, a friend and my other daughter (back to camera) were trying valiantly to right my Cheerios girl, stuck supine an interminable couple of minutes.
I do love that child (she's the one who texted me about Mario). Don't even ask what happened when she got into her head that she just had to go the next Purim as a bunch of grapes--the fruit-'o-the-vine being blown up purple balloons...