Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Damn you, flip flops.
You are the choice of shoe for my 6-year old, and I hate you. You are the reason that the soles of her feet are now permanently black. I blame you for her skinned knee last week on the way to school and this morning for the twisted ankle because you provide absolutely. no. shock. support. So I had to drag my daughter a block and a half to school with a few "we've all been there"'s and "rough morning, huh"'s tossed my way as she screamed at the top of her lungs. And it's all your fault. I would like to hurl you into the fire pit this evening while I have a stiff drink to celebrate. But I know the power you have over my child and that would reduce us to hillbillies the next day when she walked in barefoot to school. My search for a replacement for you has cost me lots of cash - Five Fingers for kids, indoor soccer shoes, many a pair from Stride Rite. I know this is strong, but I might hate this aspect of her Asperger's/Sensory stuff more than the withholding of stools. Yes, I may despise you more than cleaning up poop.