A few years ago my mom gave me a robe. Its black, with a hood. You know, kind of like a bathrobe you would find at a spa for Death Eaters. Only its got pom-pons on the end of the hood ties, and its roughly a foot short on me. So maybe this is for Death Eater children.
I wasn’t very excited at the time when I received this gift. I was still going through my ungrateful phase. Woo hoo. My annual bathrobe gift. The year before, it had been a salmon colored number with exaggerated white stitching on it. That one reminded me of something the witch in the gingerbread house would wear – if she was a girly girl. Now there’s a story someone should write ;-).
There it sat, on the back of my bedroom door on a hook, staring at me for more than a year. At first I couldn’t get rid of it because it was a gift. My mom always checked to make sure we still had things she gave to us. Even if we just stowed them in our closets, she felt better about it than if we gave them away.
Then it became something that I didn’t want to give away, because she had the nerve to up and die on me. And it was something she had picked out – though I wasn’t sure at the time just why a child sized Death Eater robe was “just-the-right gift for little Jenny.”
Recently I went out on a cold night and enjoyed a soak in a hot-tub. In my haste running out the door, I grabbed this very stylish garment to wear afterwards. So tub, tub, tub, and it’s now below freezing outside. When I got out, I scooped it up, slid it over my head, and… Oh! That’s why she got it!
The thing is made out of that oh-so-soft blanket fabric. The fuzzy cloth that I run my hands on every time I walk by it in the store. The very same fabric that makes it hard for me to get out of bed in the morning because my favorite blanky is made out of it. Sigh.
I guess mamma knew best.
Now when you see me in the morning (or after a soak) wearing this horrific fashion faux pas, you will be jealous. And rightly so. With my ankles nine inches from the hem line, the bulky blanket fabric hanging just-so from my shoulders, you will think:
“Now there’s a Death Eater’s child whose mother loved them.”