The Magical Shirt

The Magical Shirt

There are some objects in this world that are enchanted. I’m not one to believe in superstitions, but certain occurrences are so otherworldly that even the most hardened skeptic has to reevaluate his or her policy of disbelief.

One of these charmed objects recently found its way into our Ouija board-free home. It is making me doubt everything I thought I knew about the silent workings of the universe.

I am beginning to believe that Cee’s green shirt with pink giraffes on it imbues her with super toddler powers.

This not-great picture was the only one I could find of the magic shirt. It resists being photographed.

(This not-great picture was the only one I could find of the magic shirt. It resists being photographed because it cannot have its powers revealed. I’m actually kind of amazed this post was able to go up at all. If you experience 404 errors later, that’s why.)

The shirt had humble beginnings. A couple months ago a random cold front came through and I had to run out in a pinch and get C fall clothes. My haul from a local consignment store included several pairs of pants, a sweater, and an assortment of long-sleeved shirts. In the middle of this ordinary wardrobe was the magical shirt in question. Its tag indicated that it originated at Gymboree, but we now know better. It started in Fairy Land.

The first time I noticed that this shirt was enchanted was several weeks ago when I went to get Cee out of her crib after her nap. When I opened the door, my topless daughter was standing in her crib, the shirt nowhere in sight. I asked her where it was and she just smiled. I later found it behind her old changing table, located on the opposite side of the room.

Naturally, the shirt removed itself from her and then teleported to the furthest reaches of the room. I was a little shocked because it only cost like $2, and one would think that sentient children’s clothing would cost at least as much as admission to Disneyworld.

We then had a substantial warm-up for a few weeks so she didn’t need to wear the shirt. It sat dormant in her drawers and bode its time to perform another trick. The other day, the temperatures dipped so I laid out the shirt for her and got her dressed. After she was dressed for the day, I set up her Pack ‘N Play in my room so she could sit in it and look at books while I showered. We do this every Friday when B has to be at work early and is unable to watch her while I shower. There are a lot of sacrifices I make for my child but getting up early before she wakes just to take a shower is not one of them.

The sides of the Pack N’ Play come all the way to Cee’s shoulders, so unless she is a direct descendant of Harry Houdini and we don’t know it, there is really no way for her to escape from the playpen and wreak havoc on the apartment.

I thought.

You can imagine my surprise when I pulled the shower curtain back and saw my child sitting on my bed – not in the Pack N’ Play – waving excitedly. Naturally, the shirt gave her the power to levitate out of the playpen. There is no other explanation for these eerie happenings.

While I am a little frightened of this shirt, it’s the kind of fear that I have a hard time looking away from. I’m hoping that its powers are the good kind. Maybe if I treat it with respect and launder it dutifully, it will give C the ability to make me some coffee.

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