“Which one, Em? The witch’s shoes or your Uggs?” I said, holding up her black Uggs.
“This one,” Emma said pointing to the black, pointy-toed shoes with large brass buckles I bought for her from the costume shop a month ago.
“She’s such a girl,” Richard whispered, smiling broadly.
Emma jammed her feet into the witchy shoes, looked down and said with a certain degree of satisfaction, “There!”
Then she hopped on her scooter and whipped around our living room.
Emma on her scooter in costume
Last year for Halloween, Emma wanted to be a witch as well. This year, however, she said matter-of-factly, “Pretty Witch.”
And a pretty witch she is.