A few years ago, well before my son was gestating in her uterus like H.R. Giger‘s worst nightmare, my wife bought a bunch of fabric in order to snip and sew into a Halloween costume.

Wanna see it?

The costume was a replication of the outfit everyone’s favorite horse-faced star (runner-up: Seinfeld, last place: Sarah Jessica Parker) wears in Pretty Woman, when she’s still plying her trade on the streets of Los Angeles.

The outfit was dead-on and – even without Yours Truly on her arm dressed as Richard Gere (complete with gray suit, gray hair, a bouquet of flowers and a few extra pounds making me look more like Bill Clinton but whatyagondo?) – everyone recognized her as the world’s least-diseased prostitute. We won a prize for best couple costume.

That’s not the prize this little girl is going to win. If there is a God, her prize will be a new family.

I repeat: NOT MY WIFE. (She’s beneath the video.)

This IS my wife:

Her commentary on the situation? “If you’re dressing the girl up as a hooker, at least give her the jacket.”