Friday, August 14, 2009

Shoe Be Due

I hate shopping with my kids.

There. I said it. It's out in the open for everyone to read and to chastise me.

But honestly? You'd hate it too.

The Girl isn't so bad. She goes off and does her own thing, and usually comes back with halfway decent clothing that we only fight about a little. And we only fight if it is expensive, or it doesn't cover certain parts of her anatomy enough, or if the moon is in the seventh house and Jupiter aligns with Mars.

Because we are not known for peace guiding our planets. More often than not, they collide.

The Boy is another story altogether. He wants so desperately to be thought of as "cool" that he can't make up his mind on anything. Something he likes will be tossed aside in favor of what he thinks someone else will like. And then he'll put it back and choose something else because he isn't sure if someone else will like the first thing enough.

And with all the confusion reigning in his mind, he then stands frozen in place - unable to move - paralyzed by indecision.

Oh, he is indeed his mother's son. And it tries the patience of the strongest saint.

Last night it took us a full hour to buy shoes for both of the kids. Of course, The Boy wanted the most expensive ones in the store, thinking this would make him more popular. When that idea was nipped in the bud he paced up and down the rows of shoes, finally settling on one row in particular. He finally narrowed it down to one shoe after 45 minutes.

They didn't have any in his size.

By this time Hubster had fallen asleep in one of the chairs provided, The Girl had thrown up her hands in frustration, and I had only three strands of hair left on my head.

Then I suggested a pair of shoes on the sale rack to him that looked amazingly similar to the ones he wanted. Knowing full well that he never wants anything on the sale rack, I was amazed when he snapped them up right away.

"If you'd shown me these in the first place, we could have been out of here half an hour ago," he said.

Now I'm the one that needs new shoes, because one of mine seems to be permanently implanted in The Boy's behind.

He can go shopping with his sister from now on. It's safer for both of us.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

hahahaha! Although I have never met you, you could be a part of my family. The year she convinced my mother to buy her a pair of pleather pants(leather was out of the question!), a size to small, I threw my hands in the air and gave up! Thankfully she is 29 now and have developed a classic taste in clothes.. however, occasionally she pulls something out of the closet... and my hands are airborne once again!!!!