1. That time she decided beds were for suckers.
First day back at school for Ben and Molly, and I’m holding my breath in anticipation…
Miss Molly? No worries there. She’s back to the same routine, same preschool, and was practically out the door honking the horn before I could finish saying, “Time to…”
Besides…it’s Molly. I could drop her in the middle of the jungle and she’d have the gorillas dressed in ball gowns and tiaras enjoying a rousing game of “Magic Fairy Princesses Dragon Battle Tea Party” before you could say, “Gee, I didn’t know Rapunzel had a sword.” Continue reading
Embarrassing confession time: I’m a little obsessed with the “Little House” books by Laura Ingalls Wilder. Maybe a lot obsessed. Obsessed enough to know that for the most part they aren’t her writing at all; they were essentially ghostwritten by her daughter Rose, who was a far better and more prolific author, though largely unknown today, and a much more interesting character – an early feminist and globe-trotting journalist who died in her 70’s the night before departing for Vietnam on assignment. Vietnam! On assignment! IN HER 70s!! But I digress.
From a young age, I loved reading stories about “the olden days” and wishing that I too could pick fresh pieplant, whatever that is*, bake vinegar pie for my family, and hand-sew a perfect shirtwaist. Continue reading
You know those times when you’re just minding your own business, trying to convince yourself to stop procrastinating and start working, when suddenly your best friend calls you up and is all, “So I just scored free tickets to the grand opening party for the new rock and roll exhibit at the Science Centre with Q107 tonight. Wanna go?” And you’re all, “Well, I really have to work and look after my kids and be a good wife and mom but uh HELLZ YES.”
Then I said, “What the hell am I going to wear?”
And she said, “Something rock and roll. Like a concert tee.”
But I was like, “The only concert tee I have is my Bowie shirt and it doesn’t fit.”
So she was all, “Too bad, SUCKAH!!!”
And I was totally, “OH YEAH? YOU WANNA GO? RIGHT NOW, BEE-YOTCH?? THAT’S RIGHT!!”
Then she was all —
All right, fine…that’s not *exactly* how it went, but it pretty much captures the essence of the conversation.
So there I was, faced with a fashion emergency, and there was only one possible answer: “Hie, my good steed – we must away to the land of PINTEREST,” and off I went to my handy T-shirt refashion board for inspiration. One pin was not quite what I was looking for but pointed me in the right direction (see what I did there with “pointed”?), and it was off to the races, or at least the sewing machine…
…and now I’m back to share my simple t-shirt + jeans refashion with you, dear readers!
Rock ‘n’ Roll Concert Tee + Jeans 30 Minute Refashion
(or more like 15 if you’re more experienced than me!)
Step 1: Find that one too-small t-shirt that you have kept in your pajama drawer for 10 years even though it has never actually fit because they only had small when you bought and you haven’t been an adult size small since you grew boobs in grade 6 it so it’s wishful thinking to imagine that it will ever be wearable even as PJs because there is basically nothing in the world less comfortable than a too-tight, too-thick long-sleeved t-shirt but you never threw it out because BOWIE, amiright??
Step 2: Find the ripped jeans that your big brother was kind enough to donate to your collection of random fabric and other assorted sewing crap.
Step 3: Either using a shirt that you like the neckline of as a guide, or just winging it, depending on your comfort level, cut a more flattering neckline than the cross-between-crewneck-and-noose that the shirt came with. Again, using a shirt that you like as a guide if you wish, cut your choice of sleeve (or leave as is). I cut down the long sleeves to a short flutter sleeve. Finally, laying the shirt flat and making sure the sides are even, cut the sides of the shirt open up to just below the armpit seam.
Step 4: Okay, there’s 2 ways to do this next part:
Measure around your hips (adding as many extra inches as you would like if you want the top to be flowy). Divide that number in half. Measure the width of the shirt, subtracting 1/2 inch for seam allowances (2 x 1/4 inch) Subtract the width of the shirt from the first number. Divide *that* number in half. Flatten the legs of the jeans with the inseam on the edge (I used the inseam because it was more visually interesting). Measure your latest number along the cuff of the jeans from the inseam edge towards the middle, add 1/4 inch seam allowance, and mark it. Measure the length of your cut from the bottom of the shirt to the armpit and add 1/4 seam allowance. Measure along the inseam of the jeans from the cuff up, adding 1/4 inch, and mark. (Are you confused yet?) Using a ruler, draw a line between your two markings and cut along the line. You will now have a right-angle triangle of folded fabric that will form a triangular insert on one side of your shirt. Cut the other jeans leg to match.*
Lay a shirt that you like the fit of (I used a flowy one) on top of your t-shirt. Lay the folded jeans leg, cuff lined up with the bottom of the good-fit shirt and outside seam edge along the edge of the good fit t-shirt, and draw a line on the jeans from the bottom corner to the armpit of the t-shirt you are refashioning. Cut about 1/4 inch outside of that line for seam. Repeat with the other jeans leg. (My sister the quilter is currently going “EEP! EEP! EEP!” at my reckless disregard for exactness.)
Step 5: Pin the insert into the shirt, good sides together.
Step 6: Sew the insert in, starting from the bottom. The t-shirt will probably get a little gathered up in the armpit and that’s okay. I did both sides up to an inch or so below the armpit – it gets a little tight in there with the sharp turn, so I finished the rest of the sides before I tackled that, and I went over it a few times for strength.
Voila! Attempt to take a flattering selfie that shows the whole shirt, fail miserably, and ask your neighbour to do it for you.
Good luck! Let me know how it goes!
*This is not the method I used, so I apologize if it makes no sense at all. I’m making it up. If you are using this method, you are probably better at this than I am and can probably figure out what I meant. Either way, good luck to you. If you do get hopelessly screwed up because of my screwing instruction, please feel free to comment, “You’re a complete jerk, Karyn,” and I will reply with a heartfelt apology.
I haven’t really said much about this yet – maybe because I’m still not totally sure it’s actually true – or maybe because there just haven’t been enough hours in the day (damn you, mesmerizing Facebook newsfeed) – but I have a new job! And when I say, “New,” I mean I’ve been doing it for over 6 months now (HOLY CRAP, I just counted that out!).
I was never, ever going to be a writer. Never. I was going to be a doctor very briefly, until I realized that doctoring was the reason my mom didn’t get home until 8:00 every night.
I probably entertained some vague thoughts of geology or mining engineering, but those were quelled by the 3-foot tall poison ivy my dad casually pointed out on a field trip to look at interesting rocks (“Yep. Right over there by those rocks. No, not those rocks. The other ones. No, the ones to the left. Nope, not those. Even more left.”). Molly intends to carry on that proud family tradition by pursuing a career as a rock scientist who’s also a fairy princess and possibly Katy Perry. Note to self: Purchase stock in calamine lotion.
From a long time I was going to be a marine biologist, until I learned that I could never get a scuba licence because of my asthma. “Glub,” went that dream down the drain.
After that I went to school to be a kindergarten teacher until I realized that I can’t stand kids. (Not your kids though. They’re great. Really).
I toyed for a while between social worker and professional barista, which, when you think about it, are pretty similar: You talk people through their problems, figure out what they need to make it through the day, and help them get it. And you make about the same amount of money. Frankly, the only real difference is the quality of the coffee.
Now that I think about it I may have made the wrong choice.
But writing? Never even crossed my mind. Writing was just something you did because you had to, you know, because the filter basket on your coffee-maker is broken and the company wants you to pay for a replacement. Or because your professors look at you funny if you present a research project in interpretive dance. It just happened that when I put words to paper or computer screen, I generally did get my free replacement or reasonably good grade (The same cannot be said re: interpretive dance; never earned me anything but awkwardly averted gazes. Philistines.).
Then I decided to put off going back to school after Ben and Molly were born and started this blog out of sheer peer pressure – people on Facebook kept saying, “You should start a blog,” so finally I did, and then I said, “OKAY FINE I STARTED A BLOG!!! ARE YOU ALL HAPPY NOW??? WILL YOU STOP BUGGING ME ABOUT IT?? GOD!!” which, now that I think about it, would be AWESOME through interpretive dance. *GASP* I HAVE A IDEA!! Challenge issued: Get me to 1000 Facebook followers, and I will post a video. And GO!
Anyway, I started a blog, realized I was writing when I didn’t actually have to and kind of liked it, and people were reading it and I kind of liked that too. Yada yada yada (that’s for Ian and all of you other weird folks who enjoy that awful show that makes me want to stab myself in the earsdrums Seinfeld) was serendipitously offered a job writing for a marketing agency.
Perks of said job include getting paid to do something I’ve discovered I love, stretching my creative muscles, not just writing but also photography and interviewing, and getting up close and personal with smokin’ hot firemen. It’s a tough job, but somebody’s got to do it!
I guess what I’ve realized from this journey is that sometimes, even if you think you have a handle on exactly what you want, the universe comes along and gives you a little nudge onto the right path.
Team Pickles moseyed* our way down to Maryland this weekend where Ian, Ben, and Molly hung out with Uncle Chris while I got back in touch with my inner university student at Blog University. I’m not going to bore you with the details because if you’re reading this you were either there or you’re one of my other 4 readers and are like, “Riiight…blogging conference…that’s nice. Now have you got a pithy, pun-filled story about something cute my grandkids did or not?”
I will tell you that going back to university, unfettered by worldly concerns of husband and children; released from practical considerations like laundry, pull-ups, and how on earth I’m going to work off the calories in those cupcakes; and free to pretend I was 21 again with open heart, open mind, and open bar, resulted in deep self-reflection and soul-searching.
As such, I want to share with you The Top 6 Things I Learned Going Back to School:
- College dorms make economic use of space. The dorm we stayed in, for example, had soaring approximately 25-foot ceilings. To make the most of the vertical space, they provided wooden bedframes that elevated the mattresses 5 feet off the floor, leaving an open space underneath perfect for storage or offsetting your tuition costs by subletting to a family of gnomes.
- Dorms are also much more eco-friendly than they used to be. Our blankets were obviously repurposed from those railroad-striped train engineer jeans we all wore in the mid-90s. This had the added benefit of grounding us all in the decade when most of us went to school in the first place and making the experience that much more immersive!
- No matter how old you are, how long you’re staying, or how big your dorm room is, somehow it will STILL wind up looking like this:
- If you were a back-of-the-classroom student back then, you will still automatically head for the back of the room now; and if you overcome the urge and go for the front row you may catch yourself rolling your eyes and muttering, “keener,” derisively in your head.
- If you put 400-odd X-chromosomes (and 1 Y) in a room before 8 am, you’d better keep a close eye on the coffee service because if that baby slows to a trickle you’ve got about 30 seconds to act before waves of panic start to set in.
- Dress me in sequins and get the margaritas a-flowin, and sooner or later I’ll wind up either singing along to the Spice Girls or stealing random stuff.
♪♫♪“If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends…” ♪♫♪ *shakes fist at Becoming Supermommy*
- Our kids may think we’re boring, but moms (and dads) have The. Best. Parties. Let’s just hope by the time they’re teenagers we’ve found a way to get these pictures the heck off the internet.
- If you pour your heart and soul into something like planning a conference for like-minded people, focusing first and foremost on community- and relationship-building – before, during, and afterwards – and secondly on sharing amazing insights and information, you are going to have a success on your hands, because as we all learned this weekend, it’s collaboration, not competition. Community is the cornerstone of this whole blogging thing – for most of us it’s the reason we got into it in the first place. Everything else is just the icing on the cupcakes.
*Correct spelling – “moseyed,” not “mosied,” as I had originally guessed. Sometimes you can be pretty ducking annoying, but thanks for having my back on that one, Spellcheck!
Ah, Mother’s Day – the day when mothers around the world (or at least North America) are celebrated with heel of bread sandwiches, fact sheets about themselves, and the opportunity to sleep in as long as they like. (“IS SHE AWAKE YET?” “SHHHHH!!” “I’M JUST GOING TO CHECK IF SHE’S AWAKE YET!” “OKAY BUT BE QUIET!” “MOMMY? MOMMY? ARE YOU AWAKE YET? NO? OKAY!!” *CRASH* “OH NO! QUICK! GET A TOWEL! NO, A TOWEL! A TOWEL! YES, A TOWEL! I DON’T CARE WHICH ONE! JUST BRING ME A…” “SHHHH! YOU’LL WAKE HER UP!”).
All Most joking aside, my Mother’s Day was lovely. Molly’s school’s Mother’s Day Tea was as lovely and entertaining as always.
Ben’s fact sheet was reasonably accurate (“Uh, mommy? Do you read before you go to sleep to relax? Okay, good, because that’s what I wrote.”)
We gave out flowers to all of the ladies at church to celebrate all forms of motherhood – and I had to break the news to the choir that we couldn’t have any because we were RUNNING OUT (which, in a small town United Church is a pretty big deal).
My cherub choir did their best rendition ever of “God Bless Families,” enthusiastically supported by Molly on percussion and interpretive dance.
My gourmet chef hubby created a delicious cinnamon-maple-walnut pancake breakfast which was served to me in bed on only the second try (the first having been drenched with water from a top-heavy vase of flowers).
Molly survived the dishwasher’s attempt to eat her with only a bump on the head, and we learned a valuable lesson about leaving kitchen renovations half-finished. FYI – A heavy slow-cooker as a counterweight (pun not intended, but actually quite clever – go subconscious!!) is not an adequate replacement for an actual built-in dishwasher cabinet. We should probably get on that.
And I got a pretty necklace!
How do you celebrate Mother’s Day? How successful was your day this year?
Once upon a time, in a far away land, lived a beautiful young woman, her handsome husband, and their spirited 2 year-old son. They lived a humble and unassuming life and were happy together, just the three of them, but they all harboured a secret desire to welcome one more child to their family.
They wished and wished, and faced many trials along the way, but at long last, that wish was granted, and the couple told their precocious son that the mommy had a baby growing in her tummy. He was delighted and declared, “It’s going to be a turtle, and I’m going to name it Dora!”
After the longest pregnancy the woman had ever experienced (literally, since the aforementioned little boy made his appearance rather earlier than expected), the big day finally came. The expectant couple dropped the little boy off with his grandparents, packed their bags, and headed off bright and early to…
After a calming meander through the furniture-filled halls and a quick bite of breakfast for the father-to-be, they made their way to the hospital where they celebrated International Women’s Day 2010 by welcoming the future first female benevolent dictator of the world.
On meeting her several hours later, her brother quickly got over his disappointment at her lack of turtle-ness and accepted his parents’ over-ruling of his name choice in favour of Molly Elizabeth…
…and the rest, as they say, is history — or at least it will be once she makes it!
(Oh, right — as for the titular Princesuccessful Day of Princexcess…) Boy, oh boy — Let a doting father of a princess-obsessed birthday girl loose in a bedding store, and the results are…well…
Perhaps it could be best expressed as a word problem:
If Train 1, carrying a load of cotton candy, leaves Station A at 10:30 AM traveling 100 km/h, and Train 2, carrying a load of Bazooka Joe bubble gum, leaves Station B at 10:45 AM traveling 115 km/h, and they arrive at the junction at the same time and collide with a tanker filled with Crush brand Cream Soda and a truck loaded with costumes for a preschool ballet recital, just exactly HOW pink will the resulting explosion be?
Or a tongue-twister:
How much pink could a pink thing pink if a pink think could pink pink?
Or a haiku:
Spring breeze wafts cherry blossoms
Soft scent fills the air
The perfume suggests a hue.
I give you: Princess Molly’s Royal Bedroom
Anyway, my Molly Monkey, five International Women’s Days have now come and gone in your life, and you have grown up into a headstrong, self-aware, independent, gutsy, and all-around fantastic four year-old with those excellent leadership qualities that your paediatrician predicted in your first year.
I know that you will grow up to do anything you want to do, and mommy, daddy, and Ben and all the rest of your family and friends will be there to support you and cheer you on, whether it’s fulfilling your dream of becoming a princess geologist, or traveling the world to watch you compete at the elite level of the winter sport you plan to invent, “Skeleton but then you slide down a huge, huge jump and fly way up in the air and do flips and somersaults!!”
Actually, y’know what – let’s stick to world domination. It’s probably safer.
‘Tis the season!! As the ground turns snowy and swathes of red and green appear in the dollar store, our thoughts turn to the joyous season of giving.
To help you with that giving, I have been carefully poring over toy catalogues to compile a list of my top 10 essential Christmas shopping tips. I really hope that you find them helpful!
Top 10 Christmas Shopping Tips
(according to a national retail toy catalogue)
For the little boy in your life, pirate, castle, race car, tool kit and train play sets are always appropriate choices. Don’t accidentally buy one for your little girl, though. She would much rather have a pretty pink purse, baking set, realistic shopping cart, or vanity unit with light – the 5-minute auto shut-off means she won’t get into the habit of primping for too long, and her future husband will appreciate that, amiright? Pair that with her very own vacuum cleaner and cleaning trolley and look at her go!
Boys love science, so look for a telescope, chemistry set, microscope, or any of many other assorted science kits with only boys on the boxes. As I’m sure you realize, girls aren’t really good at that sort of thing but they do like to make pretty stuff, so you could try the rock-tumbling kit; maybe she’ll even learn something while creating earrings, necklaces, or keychains! For even more creativity without the distracting science focus, consider any of a wide variety of craft kits.
Looking for something a bit bigger? Little girls really like to sit and draw, or even just sit passively and look pretty, so consider a art desk or a pink princess castle playhouse for her. For her brother, how about an activity gym or superhero-themed real go-kart? Those boys really like to get active while their sisters watch! Remember, they’re never too young to start internalizing appropriate gender roles, so consider an infant-sized kitchen play-set for Baby Susie or sports centre for Little Johnny.
For toddlers and preschoolers, you can’t go wrong with a classic child-sized kitchen play set. It used to be that these were only for the little girl in your life, but we’ve come a long way, baby! Now you can get realistic-looking toy kitchens so that boys and girls can play together – think how much fun your kids will have reinforcing gender stereotypes when she washes dishes while he barbecues, or even better, as she fixes him another sammich while he scarfs down the first!
Little girls love to play dress-up and then look at themselves in the mirror, so the only question is: Table-top or full length? (Or how about both?)
Outdoor toys like sleds, battery-operated cars and other ride-ons are always a hit! If you want your daughter to participate make sure she has a brother or little boy friend who can take the controls because you know what they say about women drivers…
Building sets are also an excellent choice for both boys and girls. The manufacturer makes it easy for the consumer to ascertain which sets are appropriate for boys or girls by selectively gendering the character figures that are included. Your daughters will love building the sets and then grooming horses, pampering pets, hosting sleepovers, or running a bakery with Andrea, Emma, Stephanie, Mia, and Olivia, while your sons will enjoy flying planes, fighting bad guys, and performing open water rescues while identifying with male pilots, lumberjacks, forklift operators, police officers, superheroes, and coast guard members!
What little girl wouldn’t love a baby doll to cuddle and care for or a little girl doll to be her best friend? With a wide variety of doll furniture and other accessories available in a vast array of shades of pink, your little mommy can dress, change, bath, and feed her little baby to her heart’s content. Since statistics show that the vast majority of little girls are white or just slightly tanned, you will easily be able to find a doll that your daughter can relate to. As the catalogue suggests, “Celebrate her uniqueness” with the gift of unintentional irony! Playing with dolls develops nurturing, caring, and empathy, which is wonderful for girls, but of course we don’t wish to encourage those traits in boys, which brings us to our next tip –
Boys love violence! Luckily there is a wide variety of toys available to feed those urges, including boxing sets, guns, and ammo. For your little Katniss, consider a pink/purple gun, bow, or crossbow – and so you don’t have to say it, the little “Rebelle” logo will remind her every time she sees it that it’s not quite socially appropriate, now, is it?
Finally, if toys aren’t really your game, consider furniture. Is your little one outgrowing his crib? Why not get him an awesome toddler bed that looks like a sports car, train, or pirate ship? If you have a daughter, you’ll have to think of something else since a hollowed out fairy princess would be kind of creepy. (Aside – How is it that no-one has made a disemboweled tauntaun toddler bed yet?? Mattel? Little Tikes? This is cross-branding GOLD. You guys will definitely want to get on that. I expect a 10% royalty on every unit sold.)
Special bonus tip #11:
Be aware of the way that toy marketing influences as well as reinforces gender roles. Don’t buy into the marketing gimmick that tells you that you have to go to the separate “girls” section to get a pinkified version of the same familiar toys. Companies aren’t doing it because research has shown that there is a qualitative difference between “boy” stuff and “girl” stuff. They’re doing it because they know they can get you to spend your money twice on the same damn thing.
Listen to your children. Let them develop their own likes and dislikes – don’t let the toy companies do it for them. If your daughter asks Santa for a 44-piece tool kit while your son wants an Easy-Bake oven, congratulate yourself on doing parenting right. (I still use that tool kit – thanks again, Santa!).
The social construction of gender is a cyclical process – advertising doesn’t create those constructs, but it doesn’t try to undermine them either, because retailers make money by giving us what we want to see: Little white girls playing with dolls and boys driving racecars. They think that we won’t be as likely to buy it if they catch us off-guard with something that doesn’t seem quite right, so they (and we) continue to force our hockey-playing girls and our Strawberry Shortcake-loving boys back into those boxes that society has built for them over and over until eventually they decide that they might as well just stay there.
Let kids be kids, not gender constructs. The next time you see a toy catalogue with 9 pages of little (white) girls playing with doll stuff and not a boy in sight, take a cue from Santa Ben and shout it out, loud and proud:
“That’s a STEREOTYPE!!”
Please Note: This is not a sponsored post. All artwork, unless otherwise noted, remains the property of the original photographer. My observations are based on my analysis of trends seen in toy catalogues and do not refer to any specific retailer or manufacturer pictured.
You may have noticed that I titled my previous post “Part 1.” Part 2 was supposed to be a snarky look at the rest of the usual Halloween safety tips flipped around like that “How to Prevent Sexual Assault” meme (“If you see an unconscious woman, don’t rape her”) to put the onus on the grown-ups: So “Put reflective tape on your costume so cars don’t hit you” becomes “If you see kids in costumes on Halloween night, don’t hit them with your car, or better yet, don’t drive your car on Halloween night if you don’t have to.”
I know, I know – it needed work, but in my head it had potential.
Then my best friend’s mom went and died unexpectedly on Sunday night and suddenly not only did I lose all ability to think in terms of funny but all of my previously hilarious lines about there being no good reason to drive around on the one night of the year when you know there are going to be lots of children crossing the road suddenly became really assholey. An afternoon funeral, as it turns out, is a quite compelling reason for a large number of cars to be on the road at just such a time.
So instead of that post, I want to recognize my friend Jenn, who has faced an unspeakably horrible situation with an unimaginable amount of grace and courage. If you happen to have a few extra dollars burning a hole in your pocket, consider making a donation to Lupus Ontario in honour of her mom.
And now for some gratuitously adorable Halloween pictures:
The instructions from Farmer Charles on Molly’s school field trip were to select a pumpkin that looked like your head, so Ben brought him that one for inspection.
Ben and Molly and I “carved” pumpkins with the help of Ian’s power drill*, several chisels, and our 8 year-old neighbour Rebecca – air quotes because mostly Ben rode his bike and Molly supervised Rebecca’s pumpkin-gut-scooping. Rebecca very kindly helped Molly draw her pumpkin faces and Ben did his own.
Ben: “MOMMY!! I WANTED TO USE THE KNIFE!! Our Halloween safety rules from school said, ‘make sure a grown-up is WITH you when you carve it,’ NOT, ‘the grown-up should do it FOR YOU!!”
Rebecca: “I’m trying to make it look like a kid drew it.”
Me: *raises eyebrows*
Rebecca: “I mean, a LITTLER kid.”
Ben: “How do you make a SCARY pumpkin face?”
Molly: “You say, ‘OooooOOooOOOOOooo,’ while you draw it.”
My brother James: “Careful. That’s probably sharp. It is a chisel, you know.”
Me: [also redacted]
And finally, my split-personality minion Ben (heralded by the grade eights at his school as “OMG THE BEST COSTUME EVER”*) and Molly, who was, “Uh…Pinkalicious. No, a fairy. No, a fairy princess. No, a pink princess fairy. No, Pinkalicious dressed as a fairy princess with a pink tiara. No, not Pinkalicious OR a fairy OR a princess OR a pink fairy princess – AGNES from Despicable Me. No, NOT Agnes. A pink fairy princess with fairy wings but NOT Pinkalicious dressed as a fairy. No, a fairy princess. But not with fairy wings. Just a princess. Rapunzel.”
*Next year, jigsaw.
**For the DIYers out there – the minion costume is a collapsible laundry hamper from IKEA, purple and yellow felt, mason jar screw-top lids, purple tulle, denim overalls, black pleather pants** cut and pasted to be overalls, 2 pairs of kids shoes, gloves, and various other bits and bobs. I cut the lid out of the hamper and cut arm holes. Everything is secured with staples, safety pins, and/or hot glue (no sewing required). Ben is dressed as a minion underneath as well with overalls, yellow sweatshirt, and a crocheted minion hat courtesy of the fabulous Ingrid at Loveable Stitches (full disclosure: I’m also at Loveable Stitches. Check us out!)
***Size TWO pleather pants that I found second-hand at Once Upon a Child. WHO MAKES PLEATHER PANTS FOR TWO-YEAR-OLDS?? AND WHO BUYS PLEATHER PANTS FOR THEIR TWO-YEAR-OLD???****
****Okay, fine. Yes, *I* would probably buy pleather pants for my two-year-old. Are you happy now?