No More Sharing My Mother

The preschool dressing room was absolute chaos, a frantic blur of pint-sized performers running around in bright, stiff costumes.

"Todd, take your suit off. Let Sammy wear it."

My mother’s voice was clipped, her fingers already reaching behind my back to tug at the Velcro strap.

I instinctively clutched my chest.

The miniature blue cadet uniform was special. My dad had taken me to a local tailor shop to get it custom-fitted, measuring my shoulders and inseam with a yellow tape measure. I had waited two long weeks for it to be finished.