As I mentioned, I've been going through the kids clothes, and making a list of what they need.
It's been a while since I bought Nolan shoes, so I decided to check his and see if they still fit.
Because my boys, are well, boys, they aren't the best at letting me know that their shoes are too small. Since I no longer have to tie them for them, I don't check as often as I should.
I pushed down on his shoe, and luckily, he still has room in them. I don't feel like the horrible Mom, like the last time, when I pushed down and encountered a toebox full of squished toes occupying every last bit of space. A little snug on the right foot, but okay.
We were standing together, and I was administering some first aid to Nolan's lip. His back was to Mr W, who was sitting down not too far away. "Hey," I said to Mr W, "Can you help me keep an eye on his shoes, because they are starting to get a bit snug on one foot, and he'll need new ones soon?" (If I tell Mr W, one of us will remember.) Nolan made a face at me as Mr W said "Sure."
"Sweetie, it's not a big deal," I told him. "Everyone has one foot bigger than the other." And before Mr W can open his mouth and agree, things headed south.
I am a big fan of the 'teaching moment.' I will use them whenever I can, and sometimes, well, I shouldn't. In yet another moment that he will someday be sharing with his psychiatrist, filed under "Moments that Scarred Me for Life," I pipe up:
"I even have one boob that's bigger than the other."
Where was I going with that? Body parts are mis-sized? We are all, really, just one mutation away from being the circus sideshow? If a woman's breasts are too perfectly matched, they didn't come from nature and he should check for a warranty?
The look, the horrified look, on Mr W's face said it all. I, too my credit, shut the hell up, avoided everyone's gaze, finished the first aid, and beat a hasty retreat to our room, hoping Mr W wouldn't follow me with a lecture.
Of course, Mr W being Mr W, he followed me, and we made the bed. I made small talk. I'm at the foot of the bed, handing him some pillows, and he starts laughing at me. "I never noticed you had one boob bigger than the other." "Up close, you can't tell," I fired back. "What were you thinking?" he asked, doubling over with laughter. "I don't know, I wasn't thinking.." He cuts me off: "I hope not, I'd hate to think that you put some thought into that," <laugh, laugh> "that poor kid. He's gonna share that one with his teacher, 'Hey, Mrs. ___, did you know my Mom has one boob bigger than the other? Are yours like that too?" "Stop it," I told him. "It was a teaching moment..." I giggle, trying to defend myself. I'm gasping, I'm laughing so hard, "...a bad teaching moment..."
I should've just taken him to Footlocker.