sometimes it's just about the shoes

Last summer, I bought my younger daughter, Samantha (now age 7), a pair of hot pink cowgirl boots for "back to school" shoes. On the Sunday before Labor Day, she carefully laid out her outfit for the first day, and tried on the boots. Alas, her feet had grown over the summer and they were tight. "I'll exchange them on Tuesday," I said, knowing that there were many more pairs at Target (pronounced, in our family, as Tarjey). "But I want to wear them on the first day," she said, dolefully. "But they're too small now, and if you wear them, I won't be able to exchange them," I replied. "But I'll have the worst day ever if I can't wear them," she wailed. Seeing a "teaching opportunity," I said: "Just imagine that you did wear them on the first day. How would you feel," I asked. "Great," she replied. "Now imagine that on the way to school, you stepped in a big puddle and your shoes got all muddy. Then how would you feel?" "Upset," she said. "But then when you got to school, you found some paper towels and were able to clean them off so they looked good as new. Then how would you feel." "Happy again," she answered, beginning to grow impatient. "But then, during art, someone spilled paint on them. Now how would you feel?" "Angry," she said. "And I'm feeling angry now -- mom -- what is the point?" I explained, "I'm trying to show you that depending on the boots to make you happy isn't going to work. Your happiness has to come from inside, and it comes from being nice to other people." She moaned. Looking at me with a combination of barely surpressed frustration and pity, she shook her head and said, "Mom, you don't get it. Sometimes it's just about the shoes."