My son has these ridiculous shoes. They came to us as hand-me-downs from friends whose son who never wore them. Apparently, the sneakers were custom-made for our friends’ son, but he
exhibited some kind of advanced fashion sense and never wore them.
Because they are kind of ludicrous.
I mean, they are blood-red, white and royal blue.
Anyway, my son fences. (No, he does not steal. He is a saber fencer.) And last weekend, his foot suddenly didn’t fit into his fencing sneakers. (How does that happen? Friday, good. Saturday, not so good?) Anyway, one hour before the big tournament, all we had were the clown shoes. Monkey tried them on and they fit. Like a glove. (Okay, that’s a terrible mixed metaphor. They fit like a pair of fabulously comfortable pair of
whacked-out clown shoes.)
Thrilled, Monkey immediately ran upstairs and grabbed an ancient pair of unworn royal blue soccer socks. (You know, to match.)
And he kicked ass. (And by kicking ass, I mean he did better than he ever has before: He did not win, but he did not come in last place either.)
Meanwhile, and perhaps more importantly, everyone commented on his shoes.
And Monkey (who tends not to be an attention whore like his mother) actually liked the attention.
Those wigged out kicks gave my boy a little swagger.
Frankly, the patriotic Nikes seemed to be a constant and very visual reminder that he needs to move his feet.
Which is something his coach
often reminds him that he forgets to do.
As stupid as it sounds, the clown shoes made for a great weekend moment.
Of course, now we have to go to the mall.
You know. To buy sneakers.
Tell me about that one ridiculous piece of clothing to which you were very attached as a kid. Or tell me about something you have to tackle on your to do list! 😉
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