Today’s post is from the beautiful and talented Paige Kellerman of paigekellerman.com. I love Paige’s blog for her honesty and humor and I love that she broke up with Oreos. Personally, I’m still trying to find the strength to do the same. But today’s post is about a different topic, and it’s one to which I can relate. Here’s Paige. (Isn’t she pretty?)
You Can’t Wear Snow Boots Forever
Buying shoes for my children is only one of the many reasons you should feel sorry for me. I know we’ve just met and all, but I find a good and awkward friendship, thrust upon strangers, is built through lots of information you didn’t know you wanted to know.
Isn’t that right, Stephanie? She’s so cute. Look at the way she’s blocking my email address as we speak. Such a jokester, that one. You know, I know, that you know I’ll just forward you all those chain letters, from an unknown email address. Adorable.
Now then, where were we? Ahh, yes. When one of my children comes to me and points out they believe they’ve out-grown their shoes, I tend to do two things:
a.) Make it personal by prostrating myself on the ground and screaming, “Why do you always do this to me?”
b.) Ask a couple questions to clarify, such as, “Maybe they do fit, have you tried cutting out the heel? Or, “Do you think, perhaps, if you’d been better behaved, you wouldn’t have out-grown them?”
Eventually, the kids always end up showing me an episode of Dora the Explorer before I’ll believe other children have shoes that fit, and also that you only need to be the ripe old age of six to travel to walk to Ecuador, unattended. I was seven when I first did that, so the logic escapes me.
It’s not that my children outgrowing their shoes angers me, it’s just that I always through bricks through other people’s windshields when I get news of any kind. Kid’s shoes can get a little pricey. And finding ones that last is difficult. When my son out-grew his shoes this month, I tried to reason it out.
He still had snow boots that fit. He loves his snow boots. The public had a greater than forty, but less than fifty-percent chance of noticing he’d been wearing snow boots for eighteen years. This would work. If his feet got hot, he didn’t have to wear socks. At the pool, we’d just tell people he had something called a “Snowman Complex”.
As, in, “You wouldn’t be laughing if your kid thought his nose was a carrot.”
Yes, that was the ticket. He’d wear the boots. We’d “discover” a new phobia. And I wouldn’t have to buy new shoes.
As it always does, however, reason won out, I re-attached my coffee IV, and ended up commandeering a new pair of tennis shoes …durable, classically styled, probably last for a solid three months.
But, when and if my son out-grows these, I know we’ll have the snow boots, because I know, for a fact, kids never out-grow those. Right? Just cover your windshield.
Touche, Paige. I HATE when my middle daughter outgrows her shoes because it is so hard to find new ones. She might have the widest feet of any preschooler who ever lived. Thanks for stopping by!
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