School shoe shopping. Uugh. It’s never fun. There are always many, many people. Little loud people. Harassed and perplexed parents. How can there be a queue at quarter past nine? There’s no way that baby needs school shoes; why are they even here? (Probably because they’ve been up with that baby since about 5…)
Today it was Girl2 who was upset. Tearful shock. She’s been wanting to wear the same size of shoe as me for ages- now she feels like a giant for getting there when she’s only 9. (Imagine the guilt of a parent whose child’s feet have grown 2 full sizes in 6 months without getting bigger shoes. Ooops) Luckily, the kind shop guy was able to find a pair of shoes in a style suitable for a little girl who’s not ready to wear mummy shoes yet.
In another shop I realised that we’re heading into the second autumn/ winter season when I don’t need to be buying reds and purples for Herself. I didn’t expect to miss buying her cosy knee length socks. Sometimes I can go to that shop without her in my head, but not today. Then I heard my aunt’s laugh. Yes, a late aunt. They were all there with me.
So Girl2 will hear again the tales of her granny being the tallest of all the family. Despite having four older sisters, there was little chance for hand me downs. A style setter. Her own woman.
Go Girl2, you can be queen of all you survey.