30 September 2011

That's Impossible

While I was making Katie's supper the other night, I had her sitting on the kitchen counter in front of me, where she was fiddling with her brand new shoes. It took some doing to get her in these shoes in the first place, so that's why it was super duper okay to have them up on the counter. Of course, we'll try to discourage this as she gets older. Who wants a toddler tromping along the counter, kicking the toaster, smashing the bananas, and stomping through the sink?

I've met a small person or two that really loves wearing, picking out, and walking around in shoes: whether sandals or rain boots (Hi, Ellie!). My baby? When Grandmother brought her shoes for her birthday, she started shaking. You heard me. SHAKING. She was scared of those shoes! Understandable, though, right? I mean, they were a snake pit, full of quicksand; not a pair of sweet mary janes.

And so this was the result of never putting shoes on her, I guess. We had some newborn shoes...there was a teeny pair that her auntie gave her that would match her baptism gown. We put those on her. She looked like a cloud in Heaven. I picked her up, and they fell on the floor. As it turns out, the skinniest tootsies on the planet cannot hold onto a pair of Heavenly shoes.

There was a pair of spunky little pink and green plaid kicks that I really dug, but she couldn't keep those on, either. She wore them Thanksgiving Day, and by the time I was buttering my roll, I had scrapped the whole idea. I could only bend over and pick up shoes and put them back on so many times before it started to resemble exercise.

So, we just sort of left it alone. Kept her in socks and footie pajamas and called it a day. And then spring and summer rolled around, and she was one happy, bare-footed baby!

But then.

Then, she turned one.

And THEN, a week later, she started walking around. As in our little, helpless, breakable babe starting rocketing around like she was grown, and the house did not satisfy her. She wanted to walk outside. On sticks. And dirt. And through mud and rocks and cats and cow patties and other things that go yuck on the foot.

That meant shoes would be necessary. I went to the store and bought her some. When I sat down on the floor with her to show her the shoes and to attempt putting them on her, she kindly pushed them aside. She's so polite; she was so gentle. I think she even smiled at me: No thanks, Mama. You keep those.

This is when I put them on my toes to show her they didn't hurt. This only got her to actually touching them. Then, her grandma had the idea of putting them on one of her buddies, so Tootie (her best baby doll) was soon sporting new, pink shoes. I started walking her around in them, and Katie started laughing, smiling, and clapping. It was pretty precious.

This seemed to do the trick, and she was soon trying them on for size. Those actually turned out to be too big, so I went back and got a smaller size, and she's been cruising around comfortably ever since. She now holds her leg up when you want to put her shoes on, she lets you know when she wants them off, and she's completely turned the soft pink to brown from crawling over steps, dirt piles, tree limbs, and rocks. And Mama's back is in a perpetual state of pinch/sore/have mercy from leaning over to hold one of her little hands. She always looks up and back for my hand, so she can grab a finger or two, and I always happily oblige....

And I do realize that these pictures are old; it amazes me that the baby in these pictures is now walking around my house.

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