Yes, Emily, I am talking to you. And your little homie, Cynthia. Never again will I be able to hear these names without grinding my teeth. It's like that part in Anne of Green Gables when Diana says she used to think Josie and Gertie were nice names until she met the Pye sisters. Sorry if that totally lost you.
This morning, in the car, on the way to preschool, after dropping off the Tank, the Bear and I are talking. We use our car time for chatting. She says, randomly:
Emily is tired of my blue shoes.
Prodded further, she produced this:
Emily said, 'I'm so tired of seeing you in those blue shoes every day. Why do you wear the same shoes all the time?"
It is on, bitch.* You better not let me catch you on the playground. And if I meet your mother? Oh, the gloves are coming off. That woman should have taught you some manners. And possibly spanked you more.
There you have it. A classmate made fun of my kid for only owning one pair of shoes. A perfectly nice, serviceable pair of shoes, which she picked out herself, especially for preschool. I am of the less is more school of parenting, because a) they're just going to grow out of it in 3 months, and b) they're going to destroy it before it gets grown out of anyway. Seriously. But the reason the Bear only has that one pair of shoes to wear to school is that I can't afford to buy her more than that. I'm sure some kids have pairs and pairs of school shoes and play shoes and dressy shoes and whatnot. Not mine. They each spent the entire summer in a $5 pair of fake crocs, and are now comfortably ensconced in their school shoes. We'll probably add some boots for winter snow/rain/ickyness, etc. when grandma comes next weekend. Grandma is always good for shoe shopping. But still. There is no buying superfluous things like a second pair of shoes when you already have a pair that works just fine?
Hell, I'm on my second year in this particular pair of school shoes. I wear them every day. They look fine. They smell like... feet. Oh, well. Odor Eaters are much cheaper than new shoes. Maybe next year, if the tax refund fairy is good to me, I'll get a new pair.
*Yes, I realize I am calling a four-year-old a bitch. She insulted my child. Get over it.