We put up two ceiling fans this weekend. (Thank you Pa-Paw!!)I don't know why, but completing this task put me in the mood to do a little Spring Cleaning. This ritual makes me feel unbelievably productive. Giving me a "Look what I did all by myself" attitude that I can bring to work with me and gloat over with my co-worker.
I started in the girl's room of course. Beginning with the closet I had the girls sit on the floor and give me a Thumbs Up or Thumbs Down to each piece of clothing. Painless for all parties.
We get to the shoes. The ease of the clothing toss was NOT to carry over to the shoe toss. Why? Because I have an Emily. For some reason, Morgan does not see the need to hold on to shoes that no longer fit. Maybe because the shoes don't actually leave the closet after she outgrows them, they just move on to Emily and she doesn't feel the emotional loss that Emily apparently feels.
I'm not kidding people. We often purchase the same style of shoe for both of the girls for the sole purpose of delaying the drama I am about to describe to you.
Picture if you will, me holding two IDENTICAL pair of black knee-high Sketcher boots with mock lacing up the back with pink beads on the end of the laces, also featuring a side-zip closure.
These IDENTICAL PAIR of boots were carefully chosen in August of '07 at the Grapevine outlet mall in Texas. These boots have a 1" heel. These boots make exactly the right sound when walking on a hard surface. These boots ladies and gentleman, were not just made for walkin'. They were made for Emily.
I (casually) say to Emily that the size 12 boots are too small for her and how awesome it is that she will fit into the size 1 boots. I glance up to see a look of what can only be described as "searching panic" on Emily's face. "Searching" because her facial expression quickly changes to a look of "My own reality is the ultimate truth."
I have seen this look before. This isn't going to be pretty.
She says HER boots aren't too small. Then she says she likes them snug. Then she says Morgan's boots don't fit, they're too big. They look different. She likes hers better. They're not the same.
I make a crucial mistake.
I actually hear myself say,"You know Emily, there are little children in Haiti that don't have ANY SHOES at all. Aren't you glad your biggest problem today is that you have so many shoes you have to give some away so you will have room for them all?"
She's still crying.
I say, "You don't really care about kids you don't know and you don't care about anyone Else's problems because you are seven and right now this is terrible that you are being asked to part with something you love."
Emily sniffles...and nods.
Emily says, "I just don't think you understand."
I ask her if she would like to call aunt Danie because she is a little sister and maybe she would understand better.
Another sniffle...another nod.
Phone call is made. More tears are shed. Temporary solution is reached.
The size 12 boots will be put up onto the top shelf of the closet where she can see them and know they are there. This Fall, we will revisit the boots and decide which pair is most comfortable.
I know, I know...I caved. I argued with a seven year old. I made a deal. I compromised. I undermined my own authority. Blah, blah, blah.