If The Shoe Fits
My wife and 15-year-old daughter recently returned from their trip to San Francisco. It appears they had a wonderful time seeing our 23-year-old son and his girlfriend. They also spent time with my wife’s sister and her family.
I always cringe a little when my wife and her sister get together because it means big-time shopping.
This go-around my dear sister-in-law planned on training our daughter in the art of clothes bargain shopping. Little did she know that our daughter had already gone through the Navy SEAL equivalent of shopping with her own mother. Nonetheless, the three of them had a grand time, and when they came home I had a personal fashion show of all their shopping conquests.
Actually, they didn’t go overboard except for a pair of high-heeled shoes that our daughter simply had to have. Had I been there, these shoes would never have received my approval as they looked like something Katy Perry would strut around in. They were way high and a little too sexy. Our daughter modeled them and then left them by our front door.
The next morning I heard my wife’s car alarm going off. I was frantic as it was going to rile the entire neighborhood. It was raining outside and the only pair of footwear immediately available was my daughter’s new shoes. I slipped them on and teetered over the rain covered sidewalk to get to the car to shut down the alarm.
I didn’t stop to think how I looked, although I was wearing a pair of shorts. It wasn’t until a neighbor drove by and honked his horn that I realized I must have looked like one of those gals on the side streets of Waikiki. I flipped off the shoes and trudged back to the house in my bare feet.
Now that I think about it, my dad must have been rolling over in his grave.