The jeweler’s daughter had a white fairy costume. I was envious, though I didn’t know that word in first grade. I was a latch key kid, so I went home at lunch time to the empty apartment, removed the blanket from my doll crib, wrapped it around my butt, pinned it with a safety pin, and returned to Miss Chase’s classroom. I got up in front of everyone and sang the entire Chiquita Banana commercial. Blonde hair and blue eyes were a lot to overcome in achieving the desired Latina effect, but I was gloriously unaware of that. It was a moment of joyful, un-self-conscious exuberance.
Good. The details made the story work.