Or more precisely, she has a thing against shoes that have been fitted properly, by a shoe fitting expert. Instead she likes to wear her gum boots sans socks (pooh!), some old Country Road canvas sneaks sans socks (pooh!) or a rip-off Bensimon sneaker by Gumboots sans socks (pooh!). Or sometimes, just for something special, she wears her baby Tip Toey Joeys. She shoves her almost-four-year-old foot into those soft soled suckers and wears them. And wears them. And keeps right on wearing them. If only they made Tip Toey Joey's for almost-four-year-olds, and she'd be set.
Sometimes she even lashes out and wears her cousins much-loved first shoes, and looks like something out of Narnia, with the heels sticking out the back. It's an odd sight, trust me. I'm an expert.
Alternatively, Tiny likes to tap her inner nomad and go barefoot. Which is all well and good if you've got soles thicker than a set of Pirellis, but she doesn't, and life isn't a cabaret old chum, and the ground is dirty, and there is glass, and burrs, and dirt and stuff. So shoes - yes, shoes are your friend.
So in sheer desperation, I bought some ridiculously super cool shiny purple Saltwater Sandals from my friend, Hayley, at Little Pinwheel.
You may think happily ever after, right?
Wrong. Tiny had a huge and relentless tantrum, that started when she got in the car, and finally finished half an hour later at pre-school. Tiny finally agreed to put her new Saltwaters on. She still wasn't convinced, despite the initially gush of love - she wasn't sold (I was! I love those wee shoes!).
I whispered to her teacher, J, that Tiny was not happy Jan, and that shoes were the very bane of her existence.
J's eyes lit up. She led Tiny over to her wee friend Lily - and SNAP! - Lily was wearing the same shoes. Same colour. Same shiny. Same same same.
And that, my friends, is a happy shoe story. No Louboutins. No Blahniks. Just a really cool pair of Saltwater Sandals in really rad shiny purple, a tale of two friends - left foot and right foot. It's destiny.
