Granna Gets a Onesie

I have this great zip-up blankety thing, with sleeves and holes in the bottom for my feet. I think the official name for it is "slumber sack," but it's pretty much a grown-up onesie. My dislike for the word onesie aside (it seems lazy to me to call a one-piece item of clothing a onesie, and it doesn't lend itself to phonetic pronunciation; it looks like oh-NEE-see), it's a great item to possess if you're cold all the time, like I am. It's like a blanket that comes with you wherever you go.

Mine is red, and my brother says it makes me look like a deflated Teletubby. I'm not allowed to wear it outside.

But I did wear it to my grandmother's house for Christmas! It don't get much snuggier than curling up in my onesie when the North Dakota temperature is in the single digits outside. Granna thought it was so comfy-looking that she decided to get one for herself. She liked my color, too, so Mom ordered her one just like mine. Now we match. You won't be able to tell us apart.

Unless we start talking. I'm more sarcastic, but she's the one less likely to take crap. And she can tell stories that begin with the words, "Back in the bootlegging days..."