When we got there I asked the sales associate to please measure his tootsies. He measured a 7.5 on his left foot and an 8 on his right foot... I looked down at his croc's, the size was "5/6", and I was pretty sure his tennis shoes at home were maybe size 7's. Holy Cow!! I felt like a horrible mother. It didn't help that the associate said, "he should probably get an 8 wide or an 8 1/2 wide." Good grief.
So I searched and searched and hunted through box after box looking for decent sandals for his plump feet. Twenty-five times I had to tell my kids to "stop running" "stop climbing" "stop picking" their noses. There ended up being only 4 sandals in the whole store that were a size 8 wide. He didn't like the first two pair (they pinched so I didn't blame him), and the third pair I didn't like how his foot fit in them.
Finally we came upon the last and final pair. They fit great but by then Ben's attitude had turned to sour grapes. He was ready to go (I feel ya' kid) and had no patience left. They were on sale (not cheap enough) so I was getting them regardless, but in a final attempt for him to like them I reached really far into the depths of Mommyhood and pulled out this line, "They look like cowboy boots, only they're cowboy sandals." This got a perked-up grin and big-eyed response: "Cowboy sandals! I like a Cowboy!" I knew that would work. He's currently obsessed with anything western: cowboys, horses, horseshoes, hay, rope... you name it. So I reached a little further, "You see how they're dark brown leather? Well, that's just like a cowboy's boots! Only they're sandals!" He was sold, and happily wore them home.
Here they are:
And here he is, happy to model them. So if you see us on the street, please refer his shoes to "cowboy sandals". 
1 comment:
noted! LOL.
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