Shoes

"Shoes Mama! Shoes Mama!" she cries, first thing every morning as I rush about the house barefoot, my toes curling on the cold kitchen tiles. Her arms are stretched out to me. Her strong little hands offer one of her Dada's shoes and one of her own. She is very concerned when I am barefoot. She is very concerned when she is barefoot. This girl loves shoes.

This girl wouldn't even walk until she had the right shoes. We had spent a considerable sum on a pair of sturdy leather 'first-shoes'. They were pink. We thought that would be enough, but no, they wouldn't do at all. We didn't realise that there needed to be sparkles for this girl to be interested in walking anywhere. The moment those sparkly lace-up shoesies were put on her feet, she stood up and walked, beaming her broadest smile...and never looked back.

This smile....

We recently bought her a pair of winter boots. She cried that night when we took them off at bedtime and ran straight to them the next morning, still in pyjamas, asking for them to be put on her.

When we went to see a colourful children's band playing in our local bookshop, she pushed her sturdy, little self up to the front of the crowd, stood directly beneath the musicians and studied their multi-coloured shoes.

Much as this girl loves music, that day was all about the shoes.
Lots of days are all about the shoes...

...and that's fine by me... afterall...

"Give a girl the correct footwear and she can conquer the world"

 - Bette Middler