To the beat of his own drum... (III)

Last week B called out to me from another room and said cheerily: "Hey Mama, my finger sure is fat!"

So I started lecturing him about how your fingers can't gain weight, and how he's the perfect weight anyway, etc., until I got there and took a look-- the end of his finger was ballooned out to about twice its normal size and was topped by a huge puss-filled blister. I've never seen anything (not surgery-related) get that infected.

The infection seemed localized, however, and he wasn't in a lot of pain, so I just got an antiseptic liquid from the pharmacy to soak it in. Which was effective, but which also turned his finger an interesting shade of yellow.

While his body was busy fighting off the infection it was also busy growing. (5 year olds are the ultimate masters of multitasking.) B's feet grew about two sizes overnight, and he desperately needed new shoes.

I have to digress here to say that shopping for shoes for my kids is an exhausting experience; a fight against unrealistic expectations from both sides. I expect S & B to like the rugged, shock-absorbing, cool stuff I pick out for them. They want shoes that make them run faster than Lightning McQueen; preferably with lights and sparkly accents.

After an exhaustive search which probably caused the lady at the shoestore to rethink her choice of profession, we finally found our holy grail. B had picked out a pair of khaki-green and neon-yellow sports shoes and was cradling them lovingly to his chest.

The shoe-lady asked: "So, you like them, do you?"

And B looked up at her with one of his solemn expressions and said: "Oh yesssss. The colors match my infected finger..."

***
Epilogue: Finger is now completely healed. Sports shoes are still a hit. But I will probably have to wear a fake beard or other disguise the next time I shop in that store...