How Long Before She Asks for Jimmy Choos?

Yesterday, we reached a milestone in any girl’s life. She’s already tasted chocolate, and she’s too young for champagne, so that leaves one thing. Sabrina went shoe shopping for the first time.

My mom has made it a tradition to buy each grandchild his or her first pair of shoes. With Sammy, it wasn’t too eventful. Let’s face it, boy shoes are boring. Not a lot of options. It was a pretty quick trip, 2 pairs of tiny tennies (in varying sizes because, good gravy, baby shoes are expensive, and baby feet stay in 1 size for roughly the lifespan of a fruit fly, so a large shoe wardrobe was not in his, or any other kid of mine, future), and we were done. I missed the actual shoe expedition with the twins, but I understand there was much preening and great joy, so I anticipated with vast excitement the passing of the footwear torch from mother to daughter.

Since Sabrina started walking pretty early (compared to her brother, but that’s probably so she could get to him and pester him faster), this day came more quickly than I expected. Since Mom had already done this, shoe shopping with itty bitty girls, recently, she had the scoop on what toddler shoe levels meant and where to go. In her opinion, nothing but Stride Rite would do for her precious grandbabies’ feet. From my experience, I have no problem with this, since Stride Rite makes a supremely sturdy kid’s shoe. Most of the time, Sammy has grown out of his long before they give out (with the exception of 1 pair, but I think those were a lemon from the beginning and also a victim of very long, very sharp toenails). She led the way, and then I got to pick. Or rather, hand boxes to the little diva for her selection.

I have one bone to pick with little girl’s shoes. Why is every single pair pink? Not all pink, all the time, but every shoe in the toddler section had pink on it somewhere, either the upper, the sole, or the embellishment. We know they’re girl’s shoes. How about some color variety?

Sabrina customarily wiggled like a dying caterpillar while I jammed the first pair on her feet, but as soon as the Velcro locked, an enormous evil grin of realization and satisfaction curled across her lips and she… took off. Right out of the store. Like she was Usain Bolt or something. And she did that with every single pair. It was as though she had to road test each style and getaway-ability. Seeing as neither one of us could catch her before she was 1 step away from sounding the security alarm, they all passed the test.

All in all, we took home some tiny tennies of her own, and a pair of very dainty little sandals (spring is here, y’all, and Easter is this weekend (oh nuts, that’s right – the Easter bunny is sorely behind on that one), so a girl must have her sandals). Judging by her smile every time she sees them, I think we have another shoe addict on our hands. I’m sure her father’s teeth are grinding at having to deal with 2 of us.