Charlyn’s Web

Yes, another post about footwear.

Not sandals, though.

Not involving the Fashion Queen.

It involves boots and how The Mother just can’t pack.

We arrived at The Grandparents with a large plastic tote in tow filled with footwear. Slippers, sandals, clogs, “strap on shoes” and one pair of boots. One would think that would be adequate for all our footwear needs. Teach One to think. I know, I know- I should give that up. I’m trying, really.

The one pair of boots belonged to The Boy- just in case he went out to do some work with Grandpa. The last day we were there it rained just a little. The Boy wanted to go out to the garden to pick some berries for our homeward trip. There was a little concern about mud so it was decided that he should wear his boots. These precious items were spotted by Little Miss Sunshine who promptly wanted hers, which were at home in a closet.

I promptly received a tongue lashing. How could I not bring them? She wanted them! Where were hers?

This nagging would crop up every now and again on the way home. She has a tendency to nag and not forget things.

After we arrived home there has been one choice in footwear, as far as she is concerned. She doesn’t care how hot it is outside or what fashion would dictate.

Ah, that we were all that confident in our footwear choices.

A strap on The Boy’s sandal broke awhile back but it still stayed on his foot.

Last Friday, right after we arrived at the park to play, the other part broke. It no longer stayed on his foot. He stayed on the play structure or the grass most of the time to protect his bare feet.

We headed straight to that “Evil Out House” place that is basically the only place to shop here. I knew that trying to find sandals at this time of year was a nearly impossible task. The shoe people and the stores seem to think we need to buy sandals in February and snow boots in August. I have found, from past experience, that if you don’t shop for sandals before the end of April, the selection will be pitiful. Then hope that the child’s foot doesn’t go on a growing spree or they don’t break. So there we were, in need, scurrying (The Boy was shuffling; trying to keep the sandal attached to his foot) to the shoe aisle with very low hopes. The sandals, the few that were still languishing there, were relegated to a small, far section of the shoe area. There were a few scattered sandals for toddlers on the shelf.

And one pair of size four.

On sale.

I think it was a God thing.