So we measured feet and we got new shoes purple as purple and pink as pink, and then L did that thing she's done before. New shoes that fit generously on the first day of school were, no joke, uncomfortably small by the second week of school. She grows in actual spurts, literal, not time-lapsed over weeks. She's the kudzu of childhood. So we got new-new shoes, and now the big girl has glowing purple feet and the slightly-less-big girl has turquoise ones.
I had barely used new pink shoes in my hand and I mumbled what great shape they were in, and how we should donate them, and a certain someone who watches his sisters mark their relationship, among other ways, through the shared memories formed on the fibers of hand-me-downs, this certain someone jumped up and yelled with determination.
I WANT THEM! MEEEEE!
They are, truth be told, sneakers ordered from the girls' side of Zappos. He is, truth be told, 26 months younger than L and exactly one-half shoe size smaller. And real men wear pink.
He is one cool little brother. And his toes get compliments everywhere he goes.