A Shoe In

There are many things that Alexis does that I know she learned or inherited from me. The constant need to twirl her hair? Apparently genetic. Talking with her hands so vigorously that you wonder if her feet might leave the ground any moment? I might have been known to do that from time to time. Her love of coupons? That's my girl! One thing that she definately didn't get from me is My Shoe Thing.

My Shoe Thing is pretty much the opposite of what you are probably thinking. Despite the fact that I have all the bits to prove that I am female, I don't like shoes. I wear them and everything, but I could really do without them for the most part. Actually, I should say that I could do with just one pair. And I usually do. I buy one pair of black shoes that can be worn with jeans or dress slacks and I wear them nearly every single day until they die. Then I replace them with a nearly identical pair.

I recently suffered the death of a pair of shoes. It was a very sad event, complete with the denial, anger, and acceptance that you would expect when something dear to you dies. Fortunately, I noticed the gaping hole on the inside seam of my shoe whilst I was presenting at a Psychiatric Hospital. There were literally dozens of trained professionals in the audience that were able to console me when I declared, in the middle of a big-deal presentation, "OH NO! My shoe died!" I'm such a professional.

Anyway, I hate buying shoes and do whatever I can to avoid it. If you don't believe me, ask my husband. I occassionally wear a pair of tennis shoes that the bulldog chewed a giant hole in two years ago. They are my only tennis shoes so I have to break them out anytime my kinda dress/kinda not shoes are a little too dressy for the occassion. Me wearing those holey shoes makes him die a little inside. But I keep doing it, because I hate spending money on shoes.

Alexis, on the other hand, has a Serious Shoe Thing. We have the same girl bits, but hers came pre-programmed to seek out shoes at every available opportunity. The girl just plain loves shoes. She loves putting them on, she loves walking in them, she loves sleeping in them. She seriously will not walk outdoors if she doesn't have shoes on (that comes in very handy when I need her to stand still--don't think I don't use it to my advantage, because I do). When she's in the house, she's constantly taking shoes off and putting other shoes on. Her shoes, my shoes, Daddy's shoes, it doesn't matter. Just bring on the shoes.

If Alexis is in a funky mood and I want to drag her out of it, I don't take her to Chuck E. Cheese like a normal kid. No, I take her to a shoe store. Within minutes she will be sitting on the floor, surrounded by dozens of boxes of shoes. She tries on big shoes, little shoes, shoes that light up, Dora shoes. Shoes, shoes, shoes. The girl loves shoes. Just yesterday she got three new pair, only one of which featured a certain Spanish-speaking little girl that's taking over the universe one product at a time.

I don't understand this shoe thing. But hey, if it makes her happy, then by all means I will play along with it. It's our differences that make us interesting, right?