First Shoes

My little lady is 12 months soon and has been tottering about the house for weeks now (one hand on something at all times mind you) so it was time to get her some sort of shoes. My own Mama, always wanting to be the “favourite Nanna” said that she’d love to pay for her first shoes. Brilliant, that’s great, thanks so much for that, we’ll go up together this week and get them, I said to her.

So…a few bites into my lunchtime sandwich and I see “Mother Goose” lighting up on my phone. I think uh oh, I usually call her at 12:30pm, not this early to check on my daughter (she is my child minder, paid in trips to Peter Marks to get her hair done and bottles of D & G Light Blue) so I better answer,  just in case something is wrong. I wish I hadn’t. She proceeded to tell me that I would be so proud, why I asked? “Well, she was so so good in the shoe shop, she was smiling at the assistants and didn’t wriggle once” Sorry, what? Did I hear that correctly, “you brought my daughter for her first shoes without me, without her Mother?”  “Yes, that’s exactly right, I am her Grandmother so I can do what I want, anyway, you’re in work so you wouldn’t be able to come with us during their opening hours” (I’ve since checked online-they close at 8pm, well within my reach) I took a deep breath and exhaled, I didn’t want to get annoyed at her when she had actually done something kind and definitely more than generous. Inside however, I was seething with jealousy that I was not present for  the precious moment of picking my daughter’s first shoes. “Ok, thanks (through gritted teeth), well what ones did you get?” Red ones, she exclaimed! There are few things that my daughter hasn’t worn, she is a pretty little thing but a tomboy at heart so she wears jumpers and jeggings, dresses and tights, shorts, you name it, she wears it but she has never worn red in her whole life. Honestly.

So now she has lovely red shoes that have to be matched with her closet of pink, an impossible task. I finished the call and sat at my desk, sour face,  banging the keyboard and feeling defeated until it was time to go home. I prepared myself mentally before walking in the door, don’t show any frustration I thought to myself. Click, turn open… and who am I greeted by, only my beautiful girl stumbling down the hall towards me with the biggest grin, a pretty dress and her shiny new shoes. It was a sight I will never forget, as long as I live. Who cares about the colour or who buys what when all that matters is that she is loved, cared for and most of all happy. That night, she proceeded to touch her feet and grin every time I said to her ‘’they are lovely shoes’’, much to her Nanna’s glee. Three happy generations for the price of one pair of shoes, perfect.

Although…I still would have picked a different colour.