My 14-year-old kept complaining that his socks were wet. “Why do your socks keep getting wet? Is there a hole in your shoe?” He took off his shoe. I took it from him and turned it over. His right shoe was missing its sole. How could he not know one of his shoes was completely missing its sole?
It was raining outside. Ignorance is definitely bliss, but now that I knew of the sole-less shoe, I had to buy him a new pair. So I started to hatch my evil plan.
You see, I had been reading the garden section of the paper and it just so happened that the shoe store was down the street from where the Orchid Exhibit was.
I didn’t have a lot of time to hit the shoe store and the Orchid Show, so this is how I managed it. I drove into the parking lot through a giant puddle, throwing a wall of water over some unsuspecting umbrella carrying pedestrian. Before the car had stopped moving I told my son to undo his seatbelt, run in and start searching through the sale shoes for something his size.
I leaped out of the driver’s seat, my car still rocking back and forth in PARK. I passed my son going through the front door of the store. I ran to the back of the store where the shoes were, bumping into an indecisive sports-bra buyer. I had three pair picked out before my son made it back to where I was holding three stacked shoeboxes.
I threw him into a chair, told him to take his shoes off, and put a different shoe on each foot. All three pairs fit, so I asked him to choose two. He did. We paid. We left.
On to the orchids.
As soon as I told my son where we were going next the angst set in. “I’m tired. How long do we have to stay? Are you going to take pictures? How many pictures? I’m hungry. I have a headache. I have a stomachache. My finger itches. My left arm just fell off. Can we go now? How about now? What about now? Can we go now? Now?”
We ended up spending as much time at the Orchid show as the Shoe Store.
Enjoy my hastily taken photos.