We have a problem in our house. A serious battle is being waged, and the stakes are escalating every day.
I love shoes. I really love baby shoes. They are a-freaking-dorable.
Jack, on the other hand, hates baby shoes. HATES them.
Right now, we have a great collection of adorable baby shoes: little tennies, moccasins, sandals, Van's, cowboy boots, and everything in between. They are sitting on his dresser, unworn. In other words, Jack is winning.
Whenever I wedge a shoe onto his protesting little foot, I try to give him praise and encouragement: "What a handsome baby! You look so grown up in that sweet shoe!" And in turn, he'll curl his little lip into a scowl that evolves into a "waaaah" before escalating to a full-on OMGMYFEETAREONFIRE scream. This is especially fun in public, where all passersby clearly think I'm breaking his ankles.
I can't help myself. Jack got a new pair of shoes on Sunday. They are black and purple, with little skulls. He'd look so badass if he'd just quit crying.