Our Little Halloweenie ...

Picking out a Halloween costume for a three-month-old child should be easier than listening to the radio and less irritating than The Song That Never Ends—just slap a ghoulish onesie on her bod and pumpkin hat on her head and you're set. Hell, the kid can't go trick-or-treating and the only memory she'll have of the event is an embarrassing picture dad took proving that mom considered dressing her up as an Oscar Mayer wiener.

(Editor's Note Posted On Advice From Libel Attorney: My wife did not, in any way, shape or form, suggest that we dress up our daughter as an Oscar Mayer wiener. She did, however, admit that she thinks Oxygen's "Tori and Dean Inn Love" is [quote] a good show [unquote].)

Needless to say that when my wife approached me about dressing up Ella in a costume, I wasn't exactly what you'd call "on board." Seemed like a waste of time, a waste of energy and a waste of what dads like to call "savings." But when I looked at my little girl and she gave me the dough eyes (or the I-Pooped Eyes, it's hard to tell the difference), I caved.

Now over the years I've been fairly reluctant to buy costumes from a store. To me, part of Halloween's sugar buzz is brainstorming and piecing together a clever outfit. I've had an array of success to show for it—Where's Waldo, Luke Duke, Catholic School Girl, and (my personal favorite) Dark Helmet from Spaceballs. There have also been several failures—Silent Bob (I'm not very silent), Punk Rock kid (just looked like 27-year-old loser) and giant Homer Simpson papier-maché head (which is really a push because it eventually became the mask for Dark Helmet).

With that in mind, I started to get excited about the idea. My brain clicked like clockwork and I began drawing up plans for some of the best and more adorable family costumes. My first idea involved us dressing up like characters from The Wizard of Oz. Ella could be Dorothy (red slippers and all), I would be the Tin Man and Brittany could be the Wicked Witch of the West. After two nights of sleeping on the couch, I decided that this idea wasn't good for my back.

Strike one.

Next on my list of ideas: The Flintstones. I figured with my loud mouth, I'd make a great Fred. Brittany has the red hair for Wilma. And Ella is the perfect size to make an adorable Pebbles. Unfortunately this plan hit a snag when it was brought to my attention that none of us know how to sew.

Strike two.

My sister-in-law (also a creative at heart) got into the mix and attempted to make this a giant family affair. She made her Chihuahua, Hula, a ladybug outfit and wanted Ella to be a flower. She also suggested Brittany dress as a watering can (because she helps the "flower" grow) and I go as a farmer. While I appreciate the thought, I had to shoot this down. Can you imagine how many people would try to water her? (That's right, I'm looking at you Grandpa T.)

Strike three, I'm out.

I wish I could tell you that I came up with a genius idea. I wish I could tell you that I came up with even an OK idea. I wish I could tell you that I came up with an idea that didn't cause my wife to look at me and ask, "Are you mentally challenged?" But I can't.

With Halloween right around the corner, I waived the white undershirt of defeat and bought a costume from Babies R Us. Sure it's cute and adorable, but it doesn't carry the same prestige and fun-spirit that a homemade costume would. And though I may not have succeeded this year, I vow to make the sweetest costume for her next year—or, at the very least, something much sweeter than an Oscar Mayer wiener.

What will Ella be for Halloween? Stop back next week to find out (I'll post a picture).

The Life of Dad is updated most Fridays (barring the call of family duties). Thanks for stopping by and following my attempts to be a good dad, husband and co-ed softball player. I hope you visit again. -- Brian