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The pity party has morphed into a Halloween party. I'm still feeling a bit stung, but nothing a little candy corn won't fix.

I will be the first to admit that it would have been a hell of a lot easier to go to Target. But would my child's vocabulary have been enriched and expanded that way? I don't think so. Whereas, by sewing her costume, she's learned all sorts of colorful phrases. Why, just this afternoon she could be heard yelling, "Piece of shit!" shortly after I christened my older-than-me sewing machine by that name. And not long after that she uttered a lovely, "Goddammit!" when the dog licked her face.

Education like that ain't store-bought, my friends.

I had some concerns about the hood portion of her costume. For one thing, I was in the middle of making the hood when my sewing machine decided to crap out. This was mere hours before we were to be at the zoo and I announced, "Fuck it! She doesn't need the damn hat!" Which my child echoed, "Fuck it! Damn hat!"

B. jumped in and managed to finish the hat in time. But there was another concern. It seems that the hat, once constructed, could pass for the regulation headgear of a certain Southern men's social club/cross-burning organization. To whit:

"For God's sake, don't anyone remove the body of her costume without taking the hat off first!" I repeatedly told B. and my parents as we wrangled her into the suit on the tailgate of Dad's truck.

"God's sake!" Clara Jane chirped.

I was able to get over my morose, self-pitying frame of mind before we were even into the zoo. My little candy corn strutted across the parking lot, shouting, "Hello!" and waving to every costumed kid we encountered. "Pumpkins are everywhere!" she shrieked as we walked through the zoo, arms flung wide. "Pumpkins are everywhere!" She was so happy, and I was so happy that she wasn't testing her new sewing vocabulary by yelling, "Goddamn pumpkins are motherfucking everywhere!"

She rode the carousel twice, the first time atop a big gorilla. As she and B. were leaving, she announced that she wanted to ride the elephant. So she rode the elephant, all smiles and giggles. Much different than her last carousel ride, a year ago today, in which she screamed her head off. It's a good thing she didn't have her sewing vocabulary then, because my granny was there. And I'm currently in trouble with my granny because I said fuck on a photo of Murphy.

As we were leaving the zoo, the rain poured down. Still in her costume, Clara Jane stoppped to look towards the sky, raised her arms and laughed, "It's raining! It's raining!" And you know what? No matter how shitty things are, it's impossible to not see your little girl, squealing with delight at the cold October rain, and maintain any coldness in your heart.

Next up: learn to craft without cussing so that two months from now she's not singing, "O Christmas tree. O motherfucking goddamn asshole Christmas tree. How fucking lovely are your whorehopping branches."