Halloween is no different.
If anything, Halloween is worse than some of the other holidays, because the Mom-gyver factor (obviously, I'm dating myself with talk of McGyver) comes into play.
I’m pretty sure that my son has a Super-secret Batline to Heidi Klum and Tim Gunn, and calls them to find out how to use Halloween as a particularly cruel maternal Project Runway challenge. Probably the most difficult past challenge was: can you fashion a replica of a WWII fighter plane with a functioning propeller (a Spitfire) into a children’s costume using: glue, construction paper, foam core, chopsticks, a dry cleaning hanger and tin foil? This year: a Napoleonic French Grenadier's costume (see? How does a 2nd grader come up with this stuff? Secret batline.), including a passable bear skin hat, like the Queen’s Guards wear now. For the hat your supplies are: fake gorilla fur, a plastic bucket, a catalog from the recycling bin and a hot glue gun. You will be eliminated if your child cries or the costume doesn’t hold up to the wear and tear of an over-excited child on Halloween. While sorting out the gorilla fur and bucket challenge, bling the hell out of a cowgirl costume, including fashioning settings for plastic jewels from some electrical wire (pictured above, before being sewn on to the bling-ed out cowgirl costume). You know, in your spare time.
The Spitfire was, thankfully, a costume of several years ago. Technically (and that's a big "technically"- consider the before, above, and after, below, pictures of the epaulettes... although there's been some weirdness with the pictures appearing, so the after one might not be there), I no longer make their costumes, but they perennially sucker me into doctoring them. And I will say that when my son came out this morning and found his gigantor bear skin hat, the perforated fingers (from sewing, not a strong point of mine) seemed worth it.
Because that kid could not have been more pleased. Although looking at the picture of the two of them at the bottom, the hat's a little (okay, a lot) lopsided.
Still. Auf me, please.* Also, I'd like some access to the Super-secret Batline so that I can ask Ms. Klum and Mr. Gunn how I should accessorize for a wedding I'm attending in a little over a week.
*My husband, who does not watch Project Runway (at least, not if he can help it), asked what I meant by "Auf me." I cannot spell Auf Wiedersehen (this is what, at our local kindergarten, the kids call "best guess" spelling, with a little cheaty assistance from google that they are not allowed), but when Heidi Klum announces at the end of each episode who is going to be eliminated, she bids them farewell by saying "Auf Wiedersehen."