Share
MidReal Story
The Little Red Hoodie
Scenario:Esta es la hisotira de 2 niñas de 10 y 8 años a las que les gustaba disfrazarse de cualquier cosa; buscaban vestidos de las abuelas para seleccionar los adornos e incluirlos como parte de sus disfraces.
Create my version of this story
Tenyearold Emma
bold, and enthusiastic. Emma enjoys visiting her grandparents' house, where she helps tend to their chickens and collects eggs. She loves spending time with her younger cousin, Ava, creating elaborate costumes from thrift stores and her grandmother's old clothes. Emma feels conflicted when she learns about the family's past struggles but finds solace in her family's resilience and love.
Auntie Kathy
generous, and caring. Auntie Kathy offers refuge for the family during difficult times by hosting them at her home whenever needed. Her relationship with Emma's family demonstrates familial love as she provides food, shelter, and support without expecting anything in return. Her presence brings joy and stability into Emma's life as a source of unconditional acceptance.
Ava
curious, and imaginative. Ava lives nearby and spends a lot of time with Emma, enjoying their grandparent's house visits. She loves dressing up and making believe, joining Emma in elaborate costume creations. Despite her young age, Ava is aware of family challenges like losing a grandfather but finds comfort in the closeknit family environment. She shares a deep bond with Emma, enjoying their shared adventures and fantasies.
When I was ten and my cousin Ava was eight, we loved dressing up.
We would get into our grandmothers' closets and take out all their old clothes, hats, scarves, and jewelry.
We would spend hours trying on different combinations of clothes, looking at ourselves in the mirror, and taking pictures.
Sometimes we would be princesses, sometimes pirates, and sometimes just weirdos in crazy hats and sunglasses.
We didn't care what we looked like or what we were—we were happy and having fun.
One of our favorite things to do was go to the thrift store with Grandma.
We would browse through the racks of old clothes and find the weirdest, most interesting things to buy.
Sometimes we would dress up in the store and take pictures in front of a big mirror.
Other times we would wait until we got home to try everything on.
We loved thrift store days almost as much as we loved our costume parties at Grandma and Grandpa's house.
Almost.When Papa wasn't working, he would sometimes take us to the thrift store to find weird things for our costumes.
We liked going with him, but it wasn't the same as going with Grandma.
Grandma knew exactly where to find the best old clothes—and she had the best stories about her own clothes when she was our age.
Sometimes when we were getting ready for bed after a long day of playing and dressing up, Grandma would tell us stories about when she was a little girl.
She grew up on a farm with chickens, cows, and pigs.
After dinner, I would tug on her sleeve while she was washing dishes and beg for another farm story.
She would dry her hands and lead us to the living room couch, where Ava and I would sit on either side of her.
Ava would still be wearing one of the hats from our dress-up session that day, a flowery hat with a big brim and a feather tucked into the band.
Grandma would pick up the old photo album from the coffee table.
The leather cover was worn and faded, but inside, the pictures were still bright and clear.
She would open to a black-and-white picture of herself at age nine, standing beside a rusty tractor in a field of tall corn.
Her fingers would trace the photograph as she told us about waking up before sunrise to help milk the cows.
While looking through the photos, I would point at one of her standing next to a spotted cow.
"That's Bessie," she would say with a smile.
"She was quite a character."
Ava would bounce on the couch, pointing at the black and white spots on the cow.
"Emma, we should dress up like cows!"
I could imagine us wearing white shirts with paper spots taped to them, making "moo" sounds in the backyard.
Grandma would start laughing so hard her shoulders would shake, and she would wipe tears from her eyes.
"Oh, girls," she would wheeze between giggles, "you remind me of when your mama used to do the same thing."
"Wait, Mama dressed up like a cow too?" Ava asked, eyes wide with surprise.
Grandma nodded, her laughter softening into a fond smile.
"She did, and once she even convinced your Uncle Joe to be the farmer—complete with a straw hat and pitchfork."
I lean forward on the couch, tugging at Grandma's sleeve while Ava bounces beside me.
"Please tell us about Mama and Uncle Joe's farm game!"
Grandma adjusts her glasses and flips through more yellowed photos in the album.
She stops at a faded picture showing two children - Mama in a white sheet with black patches sewn on, and Uncle Joe wearing overalls and holding a wooden pitchfork.
"They would play in the backyard," she explains, pointing to the photo.
"Mama would crawl around on all fours, mooing loudly, while Uncle Joe tried to feed her hay from the garden."
Ava and I giggle at the thought of our serious-looking mama as a little girl playing cow.
"What happened then?"
I ask, leaning closer to see the photo better.
Grandma smiles.
"Well, one time Mama decided to eat some of the real flowers from the garden instead of the hay. She thought they were part of the game."
Ava gasps.
"Did she get sick?"
Grandma shakes her head.
"No, but she did get in trouble with Grandpa for ruining his prized tulips," Grandma chuckled softly.
Ava's eyes widened in disbelief. "Mama was a flower-eating cow?"
"Yes, and Grandpa had to explain to her why cows don't eat tulips," Grandma replied, her eyes twinkling with the memory.
I tug on Grandma's sleeve while Ava bounces beside me, both of us pleading to play farm like Mama did.
Grandma hesitates for a moment, glancing out the window at her prized garden.
Then she nods with a smile.
"Alright, girls. Let's get you dressed up."
We run to Grandma's closet and pull out an old white sheet.
I lie down on the floor while Ava uses markers to draw black spots all over the sheet.
When we're done, I slip under the sheet and crawl around on my hands and knees like a cow.
Ava finds Grandpa's old straw hat hanging in the closet and puts it on.
She then grabs a rake from behind the house to use as her pitchfork.
In the backyard, I crawl around on my hands and knees, the sheet draped over me like a tent.
Ava adjusts Grandpa's straw hat and practices her farmer walk, swinging the rake back and forth.
Before we start playing, Grandma comes outside with a stern look on her face.
"Girls, remember what I said about Mama eating flowers?" she asks, her eyes serious.
Ava and I nod in unison.