How in the HECK... Part 2

Not long after I told this story, Large came upstairs and into the den, befrocked (sort of) in another old dress.

Which she'd found somewhere.

Probably amongst the dolly clothes, for that's about all it was good for these days.  Dolly wear.

Large Fry.  Stylin'.

Yet there she was.

The dress barely qualified as a shirt.  How she'd managed to pull it on over a thick fleece nightgown was a question I wasn't going to attempt to answer.

This time, I made sure I got pictures.

What size is that dress, you say?

Six to nine months.

And my six-year-old can still get into it.