Boots and Bread

My mom and dad were kind enough to buy Michaela an awesome pair of winter boots this fall... really cute, really warm, and really easy to get on and off. They are wearing like iron (though Michaela's not really too hard on clothes or shoes) and it will be fun to pass them down to Jenna.

Every morning when I am helping Michaela bundle up like Randy from A Christmas Story ("I can't put my arms down!") with these glorious boots, a funny memory from my year as a first grader floats through my head.

Mrs. Taranto was my teacher and I loved her. We would all struggle with our snow gear in the winter... ripping off all our stuff in the morning only to put it all back on seemingly a few hours later. We got minimal help since we were supposed to be learning how to do it all ourselves. A boy in my class, Peter, always seemed to struggle a little more. He was a thin little boy, with a slightly high-pitched whiny voice and was always worried about something. I generally liked him because he was gentle and not too rough.

His mom inflicted upon him something I was soo glad mine didn't: she sent him to school with the plastic bag that bread comes in slipped over each foot. I'm assuming this was to improve the water-tightness of his boots. Every day he struggled with those bags- getting them on, pulling them up, putting his boots on over them- and even I, with minimal knowledge of fashion, knew he looked ridiculous with those Wonder bread bags halfway up to his knees.

I giggle every time I close the velcro strap on Michaela's boots thinking about this.

So thank you, Mom and Dad, for both buying Michaela these awesome bagless boots and for saving me the humiliation of wearing bread bags.

See, you did do lots of stuff right!!