The construction of the Tweety costume was a hell that no child should have to experience. Mom had found the instructions on how to make the costume in a magazine. Unfortunately, she didn’t know where she had put them, but she was positive she would be able to figure things out.
I was standing in our family room dressed in a skin tight pale yellow leotard that Mom made me put on over shorts and a t-shirt. She walked into the room weighted down with an armful of supplies and dumped them out on to the floor beside me. “Whew! Ok, let’s get the show on the road,” she said, rubbing her palms together. I couldn’t believe how excited she was about this stupid bird costume.
She began setting out her supplies, as I gasped for air, and said, “Mom?”
“Hmmm…?”
“This leotard’s too tight. I can’t breathe.” I gulped in as much oxygen as the vacuum packed garment would allow.
“It has to be a little tight, Amanda. Otherwise the feathers will weight it down and make it sag. You don’t want to be a sagging Tweety do you?”
“I don’t want to be Tweety at all,” I muttered.
“Enough of that. I don’t know why you’re being so difficult. Your sister didn’t complain about her costume.”
“That’s because she gets to be a fairy princess like she wants to be.”
“Let’s get started.”
Mom pulled a few more things out of her tote bag, and then, walked over to the wall to plug in her hot glue gun. When she turned back around, the glue gun was pointed directly at me.
My eyebrows immediately shot up, I could feel my eyeballs pop right out of their sockets as beads of sweat trickled down my neck. My voice was shaky when I asked, “You’re not going to shoot me with hot glue, are you? I promise I won’t say anything bad about Tweety ever again.”
“Oh Amanda, you’re so dramatic. I’m not going to drip hot glue on you. I need to figure out where to place the feathers while you’re wearing the leotard.”
She pulled out a huge roll of duct tape, started ripping off small pieces, and rolled them up. She then stuck them all over me. Taking handfuls of the bright yellow feathers, she began to shove them against my body. I tipped over a couple of times when she got a little over enthusiastic.
After she helped me out of the torture chamber, I watched as she removed sections of feathers from the leotard, drizzled hot glue, and plastered them back on. Sighing deeply, I turned away, and went to my room. I couldn’t bear to watch any longer.
Each time I walked by the feathered monstrosity my face crumpled up in disgust. Halloween was in one week. There wasn’t much time left. I needed help from an adult if I was going to have any chance of changing my mom’s mind about this bird suit.
One night, before dinner, I found my dad alone in our family room sitting in his recliner watching the evening news. I leaned over the arm of the chair and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Daddy, can I ask you something?”
“Can it wait until the news is over?” His eyes stayed glued to the TV.
I pursed my lips together and stepped back. “I guess. How long is that going to be?” I asked, gnawing on my thumbnail.
He glanced at me out the corner of his eye as he aimed the remote toward the TV, and turned the sound down. Turning to me, he asked, “What’s up, sweetheart?”
Clearing my throat, I looked him straight in the eye. “Please, talk to Mom and tell her to let me be a cowgirl for Halloween.”
“Now Amanda, you know how your mother is once she gets an idea in her head. Besides, from what I can tell, it’s a pretty cool looking costume.”
Sweet baby Jesus, please don’t let insanity run in the family.
“But Daddy, you’ve only seen it laying on the coffee table. It just looks like a pile of feathers.”
“You know, Amanda, you are very lucky that you have a mom who loves you enough to make you a Halloween costume. There are children in China who aren’t that lucky.”
“Do they even have Halloween in China?” I asked.
“I’m sure they do.” His attention headed back to the TV as the volume rose.
I leaned across the arm of the chair, twisting my body so I was looking up, trying to redirect my dad’s attention back on me. “Maybe we could send them my Tweety costume and I could be a cowgirl?”
“That’s a nice idea, but they don’t know who Tweety is in China. They don’t get Sesame Street over there. Now, let me finish watching the news.” His eyes were focused straight ahead.
I pushed off of the armrest and stood. “That’s a different bird, Dad,”
Standing up straight, I stared at him for a few seconds, but he had already lost interest in my problem. I huffed loudly and pursed my lips together before turning and walking away, knowing I had lost another battle.
Halloween day finally arrived. We were allowed to wear our costumes to school for the party that day. That morning when I walked into the family room, I found Mom bent down picking up a pile of feathers that had fallen off my costume. This had become a daily ritual that made me smile and gave me hope. If the feathers didn’t stick, there’d be no chick. Maybe my cowgirl dreams would come true after all.
Clearing my throat, I said, “Mom, would it be okay if I didn’t wear my Tweety costume to school? I don’t want to get it messed up before tonight.”
She placed the armful of feathers on the coffee table, stood up quickly, and turned in my direction, trying to hide the pile of feathers behind her. She didn’t want to admit the fact that Tweety had a serious molting problem. She hesitated for a moment, running her hand behind her neck a couple of times as she glanced back at the pile of feathers.
“Sure, that would be fine. It will give me time to spruce it up a little before tonight. How about you go to school as a cowgirl. You mentioned about being a cowgirl, right?”
Only about one thousand times.