I remember wearing a pinafore until I went to kindergarten, and maybe longer. This all was back in the days when we wore clothes more than one day, changed to play clothes when we came in from school, and even my play clothes were topped by a pinny. I remember standing still, holding my arms in the air and the pinny dropped over my head and arms and tied in back to hold it shut.
Fast forward to my last weaving career. There always were scraps of fabric left that never were big enough for, say, a vest. I thought about the pinnies my grandmother and my mother made. The scraps weren't big enough to make a pinny for a five year old, but were enough for a little armful of baby. I modified it even more to eliminate the back ties. Just as simple as can be.
I stopped making them when I heard some young girls giggling in a corner of my booth, and found a group of eight or nine year olds, already glossed out in makeup and shorts their mothers should not have let them leave home wearing, trying to figure out how to get into a top. I was appalled, escorted them from my booth and packed up the rest of the tops.
Hoping my visual wasn't too awful, I really didn't stop making them. They were darling on my granddaughters. Caroline wore the last of the hand-me-downs from her cousins, and then the era ended, as they must.
Last week I found the patterns! I no longer have a grand baby for a model, or any toddler handy, for that matter. I had to purchase a tiny display model, far too svelte to pass for a chubby, bandy legged toddler. Nevertheless, isn't the pinny sweet?