He looks at old pictures like this one of Phinny and laughs, thinking ha ha, you really got the worst of mom's bad sewing didn't...WAIT! WHAT?!:
Who's laughing now?
Your sister, that's who.
She comforts you, gently whispering, "It's okay little buddy, she won't make you wear this out in public- it's just a rough draft. Just a rough draft, little buddy. There there."
This hat is yet another expression of my inability to believe in the limitations of old sweatshirts paired with double-sided fleecy whatever that stuff is called. I will update you on further
humilations iterations of this hat.
Isn't it just terrible what I do to my children. Terrible. But when you force a fifth grade tomboy to wear a handmade approximation of Annie's orphan dress and participate in a "Little Orphan Annie Personality-Alike" contest and she wins a Jackson Browne LP and a coupon for unlimited Mr. Turkey hotdogs, this is the result. It seeps down through generations.
No one will ever be safe from Mr. Turkey.