When the Shoe Fits
My son, age 6, may have a thing for his shoes. He falls toe over heels for a favorite pair. And wears them. And wears them. And wears them.
His favorite for the past 3 years have been his Jungle Moc Merrells, in brown. We now have 4 pair. His current pair are size 10; his feet, size 11. That's right. He still jams his toes in there.
Yesterday, coupon in hand, we took a small detour along our way to the food court of our local mall. I steered him into Stride Rite, hoping his good mood would lead to happy, nice looking and proper fitting shoe trying behavior. He looked down at his t-ball shoes proclaiming his need for new shoes. New sneakers, of course. Apparently, his sneakers, purchased just 2 months ago, and, at the time, announced to be the coolest and most comfortable shoes ever, were "broken."
"See?!" he exclaimed. "the string's coming off!" Indeed, a tiny loose thread hung off the New Balance N.
"They're fine," I replied, admiring the shiny leather on a pair of Tommy Hilfiger shoes.
"No, Mom. They're not! This part. Its breaking." Ah, yes. The toe-protecting rubber might have smoothed out a bit on the top.
"They're fine," I replied, collecting samples to ask for him to try.
"No. They're not. I need new ones." My suddenly stubborn son began grabbing at every bouncing and blinking running shoe available.
"Actually," I said, attempting to examine a shoe from his handful and placing it back on the shelf, "you need new nice shoes. For Thanksgiving and the winter holidays."
"No, I don't. I have my brown shoes," he said as he fumbled a neon green superball sneak.
"But they're too small," I said picking up the fumbled sneaker and placing it back on the shelf.
"No, they're not. Its these shoes that I need to replace." He stomped his foot.
Finally, it was our turn. The employee measured his foot and agreed, he has at least 4 months before he needs new sneakers, and the ones he has are in perfect wearing condition. Now, as for the nice, brown shoes, how can she help us?
The six-year-old grumbled. Folded his arms. Stomped his feet.
Nevermind. I'll be back this week for shoes for him. Without him.
This is an original Philly Moms Blog post.
