Piper likes a good pirate. Who doesn’t? So last weekend when we saw a pirate at our favorite diner, it just made the night a little better.

“Don’t look now,” I said, “but there is a pirate six booths away by the door. Full beard, full makeup, full costume. Yep, that’s a pirate.”

It’s mid December. There are no costume parties in sight. No trick or treating. Santa, elves, reindeer, fine. But pirates?

One by one Piper, Sissy, and Dad leaned over into my line of vision to spy on the pirate.

“Ok. Why is there a pirate on a Saturday night in our favorite diner? Go.”

“Maybe the pirate came to get some fruits and vegetables,” Sissy offered, “you know how you’re always saying that we’ll get scurvy, Mom, if we don’t eat well? Maybe the pirate is afraid of scurvy.”

“I’m going with aliens,” Dad said. “It’s always the aliens.”

“Pirate aliens?”

“For sure.”

“She’s shipwrecked,” Piper said. “That pirate REALLY needs some pancakes. With chocolate chips.”

Dad offered anyone at the table $1 to go over to the pirate and get the real answer. Piper and I jumped out of our seats and sauntered over to the pirate. We pretended we were on our way to the bathroom. Then I blamed it all on Piper.

“Excuse me,” I said, “but my little girl would really like to know why you are dressed like a pirate.”

“Ahoy, mate,” Piper said.

Turns out it was for a college film project. Piper’s story was better.

And now here’s a shameless photo of my favorite pirate. Meow. Piper agrees.