Dearest child,

Tonight I can not remember for the life of me what you were dressed as, on your first Halloween.  I would check your baby book/photo album for an answer; but, they haven't been updated since you were born.  I have spent way too much time searching through my online photo albums weeding through photos to find an answer.  I feel terrible.  Horrible, actually.

On your second Halloween, you were a mermaid.  I know this because I remember attending the county wide garage sale alone with you as a toddling 18-month-old when I found the semi-torn costume and held it up for you to see, pushing aside the dangling $0.50 price tag, you giggled "waa-waa" and I was sold.  You were a mermaid on your second Halloween.

Tonight was your third Halloween.  What you really wanted to be was a "lina."  We assumed you meant a ballerina but you threw a tantrum and included the words "wings" and "fly-fly."  It took us some time to realize you wanted to be Thumbelina.  Here's where my apology comes.  I am so sorry that you are the third child born into a house full of costumes purchased at discounted rates the days following Halloween.  On your third Halloween you were a hand-me-down princess for your school party, a mermaid (using last year's garage sale costume) for our neighborhood house party, a cheerleader in the costume meant as a gift for Lola's third Christmas from Uncle Mike that you wore for a local harvest festival....

and a last minute "cat" on official Halloween day, after pulling out this size 6 unitard from the trunk of endless dress-up clothes proclaiming it was yours.

You smiled as I used a washable marker to draw whiskers on your chubby cheeks and meowed on all fours before leaving for the evening.  I hope, in the future, you see past that fact that the costumes were rolled up three times to fit your small frame and see the smiles that came so easily for you.   And I promise, from here on out, that all the mismatched clothing I conned you into wearing using reverse phycology will result into one rocking wedding dress purchased from the fashion runways of France and/or a slightly used pony from Pennsylvania.

Or both, a wedding dress from France while riding a slightly used pony from Pennsylvania. Whatever you want. You name it, it's yours. 

Forever and ever yours,

Mama