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Last Halloween, she brought home a blue ribbon. She was clothed in a black one piece, with a pink furry bib, and a tail. And (who can forget), the whiskers. She was "Pretty Miss Kitty." And, yes, she was quite pretty.
There she is on the carousel at the beach with her aunt at two and one-half. Here she is forming a daisy's center, all blonde curls (which, by the next year, give way to simple waves). Another photo shows her dragging her delicate fingers throough the thread-bare fur of her too-loved bear (she could never sip from bottle or cup without touching her beloved bear). Then, just last year, she was Pretty Miss Kitty. This year, she is Cinderella. If you read last week's article, you know this already. I had to cut a deal with her before I would get her that dress (from Disneyworld, not the Disney STORE). So, even though her taste might have changed, she will be the hand-maiden-turned-princess. This time next year, that beautiful powder blue dress will not fit her. I will, of course, save it for her to give to HER children (Oh, perish the thought!). Today (and at least for a few years to come), she is still my little princess. So, as such, she will party with Pokemon, with an occassional Power Ranger, with Spiderman, and with ghost and goblins aplenty. One of these festive get-togethers is the annual Halloween party held in our community. This article was written the day before this particular bash, so I will keep you aprised of events. It will feature, as it does each year, a costume contest (which she happened to win last year). It also offers treats enough to turn every stomach. Hey, is this not the season of indulgence? There is such an excess of indulgence that my kitchen counters are overrun with goodies. She will have had three parties by the the time I write my next article, in ADDITION to the community party. One at school, one in the after-school program, and one at a friend's house (Halloween eve). This means that her cloth pumpkin "pail," with her name eblazoned on the front, will be so laden with loot that, like last year, I will --literally-- get caught holding the bag. At one point last year, after having been "tricking and treating" for about an hour, Hannah was so tired that she said to me "will you carry me up those stairs to ring that bell?"
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The copyright of the article She WILL be Home by Midnight in Motherless Mothering is owned by . Permission to republish She WILL be Home by Midnight in print or online must be granted by the author in writing.
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