It actually went better than I had any right to expect. We were able to do the flu mist this year--way less stressful than a shot. Both kids were big and brave without a fuss or a tear. Our noses were a little runny and sore, but we were on our way to get shoes.
Five minutes after we entered the store, I remembered why I usually either take one kid at a time or take Brad with us. Both of my children have feet that are next to impossible to fit. Our poor sales girl earned every cent of her commission, bless her sweet heart.
You see, Issa inherited my feet--very narrow, especially in the heel. Add that to the fact that she now wears a 13.5, which is right between where preschool shoes stop and big girl shoes begin, and we were on an expedition of epic proportions. She really wanted bright shoes that had velcro. We tried on every shoe that met that criteria and actually came in her size with no luck. Finally, the sales girl just went back and brought out every shoe that she thought Issa might like that also had a good chance of fitting her foot. Thankfully, Issa was thrilled by this pair:
They virtually glow in the dark, but they fit and Issa loves them!
Then, we moved on to poor Evan. He has circles on the ends of his legs. Add that to the fact that he wears an 8.5, which is right between toddler and preschool shoes, and I saw our poor sales girl about turn green. He pointed to shoes he liked, and she skipped the trial and error. She came out with a stack of boxes of similar shoes that had a prayer of fitting his foot. Six pairs later we landed on this one:
Both kids were angels through the whole process. Never once was their a fuss or a whine about a pair not fitting. I was just exhausted from tap dancing my way through the potentially stressful situations for my littles. We did need a cookie at the mall on the way out to celebrate our successes and sooth our sore noses.
Issa did have a melt down to rival all other melt downs last night, but it was saved for home, which I am eternally grateful for. She suddenly decided she had forgotten how to tie shoes and the world was ending. I'm talking alligator tears and my life is ruined logic here. It was ugly--especially since she ties the tiny ribbons on her tap shoes every week. It was mind boggling. We finally got her put back together, and, miracle of miracles, she tied her shoes last night. And then she tied them again this morning.
Now you will excuse me while I pour myself into a cup of coffee--I'm still recovering, and I'm hoping my mind is somewhere in the bottom of that cup.