Shoes

John loves shoes.  Actually, he may not love them, but he owns them.  (We adults know the difference.) He's in charge.  When you are the smallest of 6, you have to be in charge of something.  So, John decides:

• when to put them on
• when to take them off
• when to shake them out
• how to put them on
• where they go
• where they don't go
• when the velcro strap needs fixing (always)
• when the rubber band that his mom desperately put over the velcro strap needs fixing (always).

I've come to understand John a little bit better through his shoes.  He chose not to wear any until well after he began walking.  Not long after the first snow, he found that his boots were not so bad.  And he was monogamous.  It was the boots, and only the boots.

Then finally, after some really goofy entertainment for the rest of the family (as in summertime boots, and only the boots), he finally decided around June, that he could branch out.  He can still love the boots, but love some summer shoes, too.

So, after more than a week of checking them out, he took the plunge.  He tried his new shoes.  And it was true love.  (Until his mom forgot them on a two week road trip.  Disaster.)

Now, with three pairs of shoes (the boots, the summer shoes, and the substitute), John has a lot to manage.  And he's a manager, all right.  With lots of employees.

Through his shoes, John shows signs of having a big heart and a big sense of responsibility.  And the objects of his affection can only go up from here.