It was past time. G has been complaining that several size eleven shoes "aren't comfortable". I consulted the closet for the next pair of hand-me-downs, but there was a gap. While there were loads of size thirteens and above, there were no twelves. There were no twelves at all.
On the weekends, he's been sporting B's old size thirteen hiking boots. I love the look of shorts and hiking boots, but I cannot allow him to wear that getup to school. Besides, they are also technically too big. Too-big shoes are dangerous. G doesn't wear them because he often realizes it's "P.E. Day"--when he needs to wear tennis shoes.
His only pair of comfortable size elevens have lost their aglets and come out of the shoelace holes. We weren't concerned about the loss of occupation in the top two shoelace holes: those are for runners, according to the internet. As the laces lengthened to way-past-safe for the shoes length, we've been contemplating buying G new shoes. We just keep forgetting.
Today, as we were running errands, we headed home earlier than I'd planned. I decided to stop at Once Upon a Child to grab a pair of twelves. G was agreeable; he is my shopper. B drummed up an instant man-shopper whine. I ignored it and towed both into the shop.
Just before the school year began, G accompanied me as I went shoe shopping. He followed me dutifully, suggested cute pairs I'd missed, and carried my shoeboxes. I had no idea he'd be such a shopper for his own shoes. He quickly determined that he didn't like either pair I'd picked in Once Upon a Child. Next stop: Old Navy. G: "I don't like any of these." Off to Target we went with a overly tired man-shopper.
In Target, I immediately spotted Avenger shoes in the correct size. G wasn't sure the teachers liked "blinky shoes". Note: there are exactly two half-days of schools left. Then G tried on all four pairs of size twelve sneaker I found. He declared that each "felt funny."" G is the youngest of my two sons, but the fifth youngest boy in the family, since Cassie and Tommy have three boys born before G. B and I tried to explain that new shoes do feel funny until they are broken in. G had little point of reference, since he's only owned three brand-new pairs of shoes in his life. Did I mention we often go to Once Upon a Child?
After both B and I were totally exhausted, and after I was sure Josh would be mad that we were taking so long, I gave G a time limit. He had narrowed out exactly one pair of shoes. G went with his best decision-making strategy: "Eeny, meeny, miney, moe. If you catch a tiger's toe. If he hollers, let him go. Eeny, meeny, miney, moe. My mom says to pick the very best one and you are NOT it." One of three down. As he pointed, there was no cyclical direction. Instead his pointer hopped from green shoes, over the Avengers shoes, to the orange shoes, and back.
After the second round, which pair was left? THE AVENGER SHOES. Yes. The Avenger shoes that I'd picked out thirty minutes prior were the shoes the rhyme "picked". Maybe I don't like shoe shopping with G after all. Thank goodness the next several sizes of hand-me-downs are in the closet!