As a toddler, I was fascinated with adult-sized articles of clothing. I can remember the feeling of my feet sloshing around in my dad's shoes as I clomped down the hallway on several occasions. There's even a picture of me wearing a t-shirt, diaper, an oversized cowboy hat and a giant grin. Why any member of our family was in possession of a cowboy hat in the Silicon Valley of the 1980s is beyond me.
You can imagine that I was fascinated by the concept of Christmas stockings, which essentially, are oversized socks. My mom hand made Christmas stockings for my sisters and me after each of us was born. If you know my mom, you know her use of a sewing machine is nothing short of an act of love and devotion. When I was four, she decided that for Halloween, I should be a Christmas present. I wore a giant cube-shaped box with no bottom, holes for my skinny little arms, and a hole on top for my blond mop topped with a bow. Several years later, my Egyptian costume for my Girl Scout pageant consisted of a bedsheet tied up with gold ribbon.
Each of our Christmas stockings has our initial on it in zigzag binding. Holly's is green, mine is red and Karen's has teddy bears on it. Each year, I would pull the red and green stockings on my feet and stomp around the living room. Holly was amused. My mom, if she was amused, didn't show it. Karen's stocking was exempt from the festivities since it didn't quite match the other two.
The year I was pregnant with Lliam, I made him a Christmas stocking out of the same pattern. When he was a baby he wore the stocking on his foot and toddled around the living room. He enjoyed wearing his dad's shoes too.