Attention Imelda Marcos wannabes! Is your shoe collection losing its sizzle? Is your closet lacking that certain something, that perfect pair that will make your fashionista friends gape in envy?
Forget about Zappos and DSW. Friends, I have the solution for your footwear needs right here in my own home. Caroline has been busy, busy, busy with her favorite crafting material, the roll of aluminum foil. Last week she went whole hog on making spoons with bright red duct tape handles. This week it's all about the SHOES.
We have foil slippers. Foil boots. Foil elf shoes with pointy, curled-up toes. Foil "rocket shoes." Foil sandals adorned with sequins. Foil moccasins. No foil stilettos yet, but hang in there. They're surely just on back order.
So today we got back in the pool for the first time since The Accident. At first, Caroline demurred.
"You know what happened last time I got in a pool," she said darkly.
I immediately countered with, "Oh, but honey, we need to get back in the pool so that you don't feel afraid of pools. Just because something bad happened one time doesn't mean it's going to happen again. I will be RIGHT WITH YOU the entire time."
By the time we got to the neighborhood pool, she was ready to slip into her suit with no further comment. I think it helped that we went with our neighbors, who could provide both moral support and distractions in the form of playmates for my older two children. This particular pool complex has a HUGE, shaded toddler pool with a maximum depth of two feet.
I suspect I was a bit of a helicopter parent, but Caroline jumped right in and proceeded to tear up that pool like she was a contestant on Wipeout. We had somersaults. We had torpedo dives. We had choppy attempts at the backstroke.
"This is what I call the tuna can opener!" she explained, executing a maneuver that resembled a crawl stroke with full body twist.
Hello, normalcy, my old friend.