Unbeknownst to me, my son’s shoes were in desperate shape.
Want to feel like a good mom?
There were a few times he would off-handedly mention his feet were getting wet at recess. I was all, yeah… cuz he plays in the wet grass. We live in the Pacific Northwest. Wet, wet, wet… Duh.
Apparently, there was a bigger problem.
An observant mother might identify the problem as: HOLES IN HIS SHOES.
Not hole, but holeS.
Biggguns.
Big and many…
Talk. About. Guilt. This guilt is appropriate and called for. Look at these shoes. The child that wore these shoes has a mother. A real mother with brains and a heart… I wonder what his teacher thinks. Wait, I don’t want to know.
