I'm laying odds that someday my ungrateful child will drop me off at a substandard nursing home without a backward glance.
And golly, do I love me some Halloween. Always have.
So I'm making the best of these two definitives by whipping myself up a costume so that I can actively accompany the boy this year when he trick-or-treats.
If I'm still feeling motivated once I've finished my outfit, I'll make one for Todd, too.
Logan will probably be delighted. But in 10 years when I whip out the pictures, that delight will be replaced by horror and mortification.
As a result, I'll be doing him a favor. He won't feel one bit guilty about taking advantage of the two-for-one special when he parks us at the Heaven Bound Nursing Facility.
This weekend, I finished the first piece of my costume. Can you guess what the finished product's going to be?
Heck, no, I'm not going to model them for you. Actually, I tried, but in the picture, it's hard to tell where the bloomers stop and my white, spindly legs begin.