Monday – Fabulous Footwear
Aug. 6th, 2007 04:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermoreToday on my drive into work, I was thinking about how my world is about to dissolve into chaos. I was thinking of the tears and outrage I am soon destined to face, and how helpless I will be before them. I was thinking about the broken heart I won't be able to heal, and the anguish I won't be able to sooth. I was thinking about the upcoming days and nights of grief and torment my entire household will soon contend with. I know these things are coming, and I am helpless to stop they. You see, my 2-year-old son is about to outgrow his beloved Elmo sandals, and I have not been able to find a replacement pair.
It's all my fault, really. My son will believe this, so I may as well own up to it. I bought the sandals on sale in the first place. In fact, it's the only reason I bough that particular pair of sandals. Before I had resisted buying him anything with any kind of licensed characters on them. But as the weather grew warm this spring, I figured he needed sandals, and these were 30% off, which meant that were already being discontinued. My son liked Elmo, but not any more than he liked any other cartoon or television character. They seemed like an innocuous purchase.
Boy was I ever wrong. My son has worn them, and only them, every day since I brought them home. He would prefer to wear them all the time. He protests when I take them off so he can take a bath, and he asks if he can put them back on before he goes to bed.
"My Melmo sun-dals," he says every morning. He is in love with this pair of sandals. They are his sun and his evening star. I've tried putting other shoes on his feet, and he reacts as if I were putting hot irons on him. He cries, he screams, he frantically kicks and tears at the offending footwear until they come off. He turns bright red – as red as the picture of Elmo on the side of his shoes. I'm sure the neighbors down the block can hear his ragged sobs, and are convinced that I am beating him within an inch of his life. It's only a matter of time before the police show up at my door to investigate reports that a child is being murdered or possibly strung up on a rack. How can I expect them to believe that my only act of cruelty was slipping a pair of Thomas The Tank Engine shoes on my sleeping son's feet, hoping he would wake up and be enchanted enough by them that he would forget about his Elmo sandals, and that the experiment did not go as planned? That instead of waking up enchanted, he woke up outraged?
His toes are almost to the point that they are hanging over the edge of the sandals. Only by the virtue of Velcro have I been able to loosen the straps enough to accommodate the girth of his growing feet, but I can't do anything about the soles that get smaller and smaller beneath him each day. I've been to every store I can think of. I've searched the Internet. It's hopeless – there are no more Elmo sandals to be found, at least not in the size that I need. The day that the sandals fall apart or simply will no longer stretch over his feet is coming, a sort of Elmo Armageddon looming in our future. I will lose the love of my only son, and he will lose the only shoes he's ever loved.
I have no choice but to face the music, and the music I will be facing has these lyrics:
La la, la la! La la, la la! Elmo's world!
La la, la la! La la, la la! Elmo's world!
Elmo loves his goldfish!
His crayons, too!
Thaaaaaaaat's Elllllllmoooooo's world!
It's a melody that chills me to the bone.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * # * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
It's all my fault, really. My son will believe this, so I may as well own up to it. I bought the sandals on sale in the first place. In fact, it's the only reason I bough that particular pair of sandals. Before I had resisted buying him anything with any kind of licensed characters on them. But as the weather grew warm this spring, I figured he needed sandals, and these were 30% off, which meant that were already being discontinued. My son liked Elmo, but not any more than he liked any other cartoon or television character. They seemed like an innocuous purchase.
Boy was I ever wrong. My son has worn them, and only them, every day since I brought them home. He would prefer to wear them all the time. He protests when I take them off so he can take a bath, and he asks if he can put them back on before he goes to bed.
"My Melmo sun-dals," he says every morning. He is in love with this pair of sandals. They are his sun and his evening star. I've tried putting other shoes on his feet, and he reacts as if I were putting hot irons on him. He cries, he screams, he frantically kicks and tears at the offending footwear until they come off. He turns bright red – as red as the picture of Elmo on the side of his shoes. I'm sure the neighbors down the block can hear his ragged sobs, and are convinced that I am beating him within an inch of his life. It's only a matter of time before the police show up at my door to investigate reports that a child is being murdered or possibly strung up on a rack. How can I expect them to believe that my only act of cruelty was slipping a pair of Thomas The Tank Engine shoes on my sleeping son's feet, hoping he would wake up and be enchanted enough by them that he would forget about his Elmo sandals, and that the experiment did not go as planned? That instead of waking up enchanted, he woke up outraged?
His toes are almost to the point that they are hanging over the edge of the sandals. Only by the virtue of Velcro have I been able to loosen the straps enough to accommodate the girth of his growing feet, but I can't do anything about the soles that get smaller and smaller beneath him each day. I've been to every store I can think of. I've searched the Internet. It's hopeless – there are no more Elmo sandals to be found, at least not in the size that I need. The day that the sandals fall apart or simply will no longer stretch over his feet is coming, a sort of Elmo Armageddon looming in our future. I will lose the love of my only son, and he will lose the only shoes he's ever loved.
I have no choice but to face the music, and the music I will be facing has these lyrics:
La la, la la! La la, la la! Elmo's world!
La la, la la! La la, la la! Elmo's world!
Elmo loves his goldfish!
His crayons, too!
Thaaaaaaaat's Elllllllmoooooo's world!
It's a melody that chills me to the bone.
