begging for mercy

It never fails... We have a full afternoon to evening slate of cross-country practice / piano lessons / computer work in the office / middle school back-to-school night, and what does my sophomore announce at 4 pm?

He needs a costume for history class the next day.* Specifically, he needs to dress up as Mercy Lewis, one of the Salem witch trial accusers, and can he borrow a black shirt and skirt from me?

Keep in mind that he is now pushing 6 feet, and built like a running back. Something from my closet was not an option, though I did appreciate the thought that I dress like a puritan.

Luckily, my mom bequeathed a black faux fur cape to us a few months ago (along with my wedding dress, my grandmother's old furs, a coat I last wore in college, and various other garments I had stowed in their attic about 20 years ago). When I called to question why on earth I would ever need an opera cape—after all, where do I go?—she was quick to point out that I had entirely missed the point. Think Halloween, she said.

Not two days later, Secondo came home in a panic, needing an Edgar Allan Poe costume for class the next day.** He was thrilled when I pulled out the cape, and apparently used it to great effect in a dramatic exit.

I called my mom and added it to the list of Things For Which I Owe Her Greatly. It's a very long list.

So back to good old Mercy Lewis... Ten minutes, a few table linens, a white apron I forgot I owned, said black cape and a plethora of safety pins: voila!

He let me take this picture on the condition that I not post it on Facebook. I made no promises about this blog.


* Not a case of teenage procrastination. She gave them the assignment that afternoon.

** Entirely possible that it was a case of pre-teen procrastination.