Divalicious

Over the weekend, during our usual shopping, we looked for new shoes for EGR because the one pair I found in the hand-me-down bag were almost too small. We sat down in the shoe aisle at Target, and what do you know, but her size was on a shelf right in her line of sight? She went all grabby on me and the first pair she picked were bright pink, sequined and glittery, Mary Janes. She then picked three more pair: black Mary Janes, pink moccasins with flowers on the toe, and brown moccasins with flowers on the toe. I could see immediately that we had different agendas. I was there for tennis shoes, thinking that this pair should last a few months and it will be Fall soon. She obviously had the impression that we were buying shoes for every outfit.

Looking for something neutral that might also meet her taste for the sparkly, I picked a pair of khaki and pink shimmery tennis shoes. I attempted to try them on her, and she immediately yanked them off and gave me the pink, diva, Mary Janes. I put them on her and she hopped up and strutted around the aisle, causing passersby to comment on her new shoes, which made her proud. A vicious circle was started. I got her back in my lap and she gave me the other pairs, as I was explaining to Dave that I wanted some for the Fall. He found a pair of shimmery pink and purple tennis shoes as a compromise. I put them on her. She decided they were cute enough to walk around the aisle and solicit more comments, so we bought them. I think she thoroughly enjoyed the shoe buying process, which is good because next weekend we need to find some church shoes. Probably the black Mary Janes she picked this time.

She's decided that she really likes her new shoes. She carries them around the house, or seeks them out and tries to put them on herself when she's ready to go outside. She doesn't like to wear them in the house, and when they come off, the socks come with them. But when she goes out barefoot on the pavement now, she sits down, picks up her foot, and looks at the bottom like she's trying to figure out why it hurts or why there is stuff on it. At that point, I offer shoes and she's all about them. Then she goes where ever she thinks she might need to go - across the street, to the next door neighbor's house to visit his dog, down the hill toward the creek. And she does NOT want me to hold her hand, regardless of the fact that she goes too fast and falls every three steps when we are going down hill. She did get her first skinned knee Saturday, but she got over it pretty quickly and she still wasn't convinced that she should hold my hand.

What I'm trying to figure out is how I gave birth to a tiny diva? Maybe I need to start channeling Aunt Becca, because I'm having issues with pink shimmery tennis shoes and red t-shirts. I forsee polka dots paired with flowers in our future. I'm already cringing, but far be it for me to squelch her spiritedness. She'll certainly need it as she makes her way in this world.