Tell me, oh BTDT moms, (wait, for your laymen, that’s: Been There, Done That) how little kids grow from tiny, helpless babies who cry for food, for wet diapers, for the fact that the mobile isn’t fast/bright/musically acceptable enough, to hey, look at me: I’m almost one and now I have to start wearing things like shoes.
Yeah, Elliot now has to put some kind of protection on those piggies. The new daycare that he’ll be starting come September first requires that all children, beginning in the toddler room (holy crap, he’s in a toddler room?!?), wear shoes. Oh, and let me tell you the part about that stipulation that tickles me to no end: they don’t allow “Crocs or Crock-like shoes.” (Direct quote from the Parent Handbook). I know that some people might flame me for absolutely despising Crocs. Oh, they’re so easy, You can wash them right off!, my son/daughter/husband loves their Crocs. I hear the name and all I can say in my head is “Crock of shit.” I don’t know; they just seem as useless as flip flops. Granted, I wear my black Reefs almost every day/ But for kids who run around and go on mulchy playgrounds, they’re just looking for a disaster.
But anyway, I stopped into our used kids’ shop yesterday and found him a couple pairs. One hard-soled and one soft-soled, which is what they’re “supposed” to learn to walk in, aside from bare feet. I want him to get used to these foreign objects on his feet so he doesn’t go pulling them off all day long. But I still feel like a bad parent for even putting them on and letting him cruise around. This kid is getting too old, too fast.
Anyway, I just needed to rant about shoes for a bit. Thanks for hearing me out. You may now return to your regularly scheduled blog reading.
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