Stawberry Sharkcake

Our kids really love hearing stories about me and Mr. Wonderful as children. I imagine it's because they can't believe that their Mommy in child-form ever existed. Apparently the thought of me in pig tails on a Big Wheel is not unlike imagining a dinosaur...alluring, intangible and well, extinct.

This Christmas, Max really wanted to hear about what Santa brought me as a child. I know that I obsessed over presents like any kid, and I remember the utter delight and thrill of Christmas mornings on Oak Street. I also remember my parents drinking lots of coffee and looking really bed-heady while my brother and I jumped around and shrieked and had all kinds of discovery fun. But upon reflection, I couldn't easily remember what I got when I was four. And naturally, that's what Max was curious about... what I got when I was precisely four, five and six, etc. I'll admit, I faked my way through most of his questions, but I did remember one year with distinct clarity.

My mother made me a beautiful dark blue dress with tiny red strawberries and a white collar that I affectionately and cleverly termed my "strawberry dress." I loved it. I loved it because it was adorable and pretty, but also because it was made especially for me. Even at the age of five I knew that no one else would have one like it. Later, in my teen years when I just wanted to blend in with the crowd and be EXACTLY like everyone else, that would be a huge detraction. But as a little one with straight bangs and red mary janes, I really dug my unique strawberry dress.

This year I decided to borrow a tip from my mother's playbook and make adorable, matching fruit-themed dresses with Peter Pan collars for the boys for Christmas.

JUST KIDDING!

Instead, I made these bathrobes. I chose something that wouldn't have to be worn in public because my handywork is less than handy. However, I prefer to view a crooked seam as a sign that it's handmade by someone who cares about you and doesn't happen to work in a Chinese prison camp. Max loves his robe and calls it his "snuggly" and wants it on as soon as he gets out of the bath and first thing in the morning. I love how he is a 75 year old lady who is ready for a re-run of Murder, She Wrote and a side of Metamucil while being trapped in an active shark-obsessed preschooler's body. Sam, on the other hand, screams and cries whenever the plush straight jacket comes near him. Even hanging on the towel hook, the vintage race car fleece makes him upset and elicits long wails of "Nooooooo! Me no wear it!"

I'm totally not taking it personally, but you know, if Santa forgets to fill his stocking next year I won't be demanding a recount. Maybe I'll take him to the mall next year and make him get his picture taken in it on Santa's lap. I'm totally not petty.


I think I will title this photo "Ironic Moment of Christmas Morning 2008".

This was taken during the only three seconds of Sam's entire life in which he will smile and wear a bathrobe simultaneously. Caught on film ... brilliant. I think Max was pouting because I asked him to put down his Orca Whale Rescue Helicopter. In addition to petty, I'm also mean.


It was our nephew who really stole the fashion show later and showed how to wear a robe like you own it. This kid's got style.