The Continuing Saga

You may remember my past Shoe Wars post.  Like any good chronicle, it's long and episodic.  Mostly because the girl keeps needing shoes.

Friday night (after pedicures and Greek food--the boys and Adam had generously gone to Father and Son Camp), we went to the mall.  Our mission:  new church shoes for Emma.

Happily, thankfully, to my everlasting relief, our taste in clothes and shoes seems to be coinciding more often than not.  On the other hand, the appropriate height of a heel is not something we can see eye to eye on.  (Arguably, Emma wants high heels so she can see eye to eye with me...)

Our feet are the same size so gone are the days of cute little girl shoes.

But she's still little girl age.  At least when it comes to shoes.  At least in my mind.

Eleven is no time to be embracing stilettos...or anything approaching stilettos.  What it came down to is Emma wanted heels and I wanted none.  We compromised on a short heel but it had to be a wedge rather than a separate heel.

Emma wondered why that would possibly matter.

I had no idea.

But it did.

And when you're the one paying, sometimes you don't need to have all the answers.

We bought some wedge heels.  They're cute white slip-ons.  I'm hoping I'll inherit them someday when Emma's feet grow and mine do not.

As we were walking to the parking lot, Emma said, "I'm sorry, Mom."

"About what?"

"Arguing with you about the shoes."

If I'd been wearing unsteady high heels I would have fallen over.  Apologizing is a new skill Emma's acquired recently and it is disarming.

I assured her that like my mother and my tween self before her, mothers and daughters disagreed about high heels.

It's what we do.

Then we eat chocolate.