Back to School Shopping
The living's been easy. Our kids have worn grubbies. (Shorts, t-shirts and sandals.) The new school year dawns and the weather turns cool. I pull out their sneakers. The long winter pants. And nothing fits. (When did that happen?) The kids have all grown near six inches, I swear.
The boys need new shoes.
We dash to the Payless. Plain black runners for school are top on the list. Our three-year-old needs some new sneakers too. "What size are their feet?" the salesgirl asks. I have no idea. The numbers keep changing! "I'll measure them both," she kindly suggests.
Size 12 1/2 and size 10. We're off to find runners. The three-year-old wanders around, changing displays. "I'll take him over to find a size 10," the helpful clerk offers. I rush to find some black shoes on the shelf. Size 13s. Good enough.
"Diego!!" I hear my son gleefully cry. "Mommy, I found them!" he calls over the shelf. I come round the corner and spot my big boy, big boy shoes on his feet. Diego runners. Of course. They light up, no less.
The salesgirl shrugs, "He found them himself." (She's been well taught.) I cringe at the price tag but swallow my thoughts. "They're perfect," I say. And they are.
Two pairs of new shoes. Two happy boys. One boy, in particular, admires his kicks. He won't take them off. Not even to sleep. "Can't I pleeeease wear Diego to bed?" he begs and he pleads.
That's where I draw the line.