I know you've been there. Your kid comes in and tells you that they have a school report and that they must construct an Indian a Native American costume in which to deliver it. They tell you this at 4:48 on a Tuesday. It is due at 8 AM on Wednesday. It was assigned two weeks ago.
After you finish beating your child (you guys do that, too, right??), you haul cookies to your local craft store to gather supplies for what will undoubtedly be the shoddiest, most poorly crafted costume in the room that will make all others wonder if you are the developmentally disabled mother of an above-average-intelligence child ('cause all our kids are brillz, huh??). Sadly, those other Alpha Moms already KNOW you so you'll have to suck up their pitiful glances in your direction as you drop off Chief Hot Mess.
Anway, back to your trip to the craft store... which seems to have been taken over by total fucking aliens and possibly a busload of German tourists. Nothing is where it should be logically placed, the place is like a wandering through a warehouse of absolutely useless-for-your-needs crap.
And can I just ask: When did pattern-makers decide that Native American costume patterns were no longer needed by moms? Yes, I get it. Playing cowboys and Indians isn't PC, but fer Chrissakes, are we going to just ignore the fact that our national history includes Native Americans? And sometimes school dictates that not only Pilgrims show up to a party!??! WTF?! I found patterns for cowboys & pilgrims, soldiers, gladiators, and even entire passion play set-ups but not a SINGLE Native American one! Evidently the pattern-makers think a retarded chimpanzee can knock together a good Tecumseh costume... but they are mistaken. Long story short: I was on my own.
So as I wandered the aisles, heart racing in panic, eyes darting through the wares (There! There! I can construct a full headdress out of a pink boa, right?!?), what should fall upon my gaze? Only the creepiest fucking craft box I've ever seen.
Behold, The Reborn:
You really have to see it in person, but hurry! It's on clearance. Strange these devil-spawn reborn babies aren't flying off the shelves!
Maybe it was because I was in a Hobby Lobby (which, you know, is so Christian it's closed on Sundays...) but when I was faced with the word "Reborn" in the baby context I couldn't help to wonder if this isn't some sort of new post-abortion therapeutic craft? (In which case they should hand them out at Planned Parenthood.) Or some sort of Evangelical Baptismal deal... which is silly since a baby has no sins from which to be "reborn"... but whatever.
My absolute favorite is the little "Make a Baby!" florette!! Which got me to thinking maybe this isn't a craft at all, but there's a tiny man trapped in that box, all studly and fertile, just waiting to knock a sister up. Or maybe it's a cut-rate spermbank option? You crack open the box and find a little vial of hobo semen, a turkey baster and a squeeze-tube of cut rate lube and instructions in broken Chinglish. I don't know.
I don't know what the fuck is in that box, and frankly, it has kept me up wondering. Mostly because now I am too terrified to sleep for fear of dreams of little "reborn" preemies. And the type of woman who would want one of these laying around her house.
Oh! The costume? Yeah, I ended up renting one from the local dinner theater. Yep. Suck that, Alpha Moms!!
And I heard from a friend who witnessed it: Deuce (Chief Dinner Theater) told the entire class a long, elaborate story about how he & I made the damn thing in my studio! Yep. He lied his ass off. Without me even TELLING him to! God, I love that kid.
Oh shit. I just realized I haven't returned that costume yet....