2017.8 Wassail to You!

Like many churches, our church has a traditional Christmas eve service, and we also a time before the service affectionately called a ‘Christmas sampler’ where church members bring cookies or candies from home to share and the church provides coffee and warm wassail (pay attention that is important).  

Now the very first time we visited the church it was Easter, but the second time we visited, with Kathleen’s parents, was Christmas eve. As is my habit I carefully selected festive attire for both boys.  If I remember correctly Matthew was 3 and Paul was 6 and Matthew wore navy blue pants with an oxford blue dress shirt and a blue and green sweater vest, (the pants and shirt were the ones Paul wore to my sister Jennifer’s wedding weekend, the sweater vest was a Christmas concession).  Paul wore black cargo pants, and an oxford blue dress shirt with an orange and navy blue sweater, (hand-me-down pre-loved from his cousin Baby Scott). 

Cute Picture but not of the years I mentioned.

Now all this fashion talk aside, we were there maybe 15 minute, Matthew had 2 cookies, and then spilled the hot wassail on his lap.  I quickly got him in the bathroom, out of the pants and got cool water on it to prevent a burn, and once we knew he was ok, I bundled him up, pants less in my coat and took him home and changed his clothes.  This time he wore navy corduroy pants and a red turtleneck.  We made it back just in time for the church service.

By the following year we were attending regularly, and looking forward to Christmas eve, and Matthew was looking forward to the Christmas cookies he felt he had missed out on because of the whole hot wassail accident. Christmas Eve came, and again, as is my nature I dressed the boys festively.  Matthew wore green slacks, a green shirt and a blue cardigan sweater vest (that he did not like, but that Paul had loved when it fit him).  There was some good natured joking that I should pack a change of clothes for Matthew, ha-ha. But surely he wouldn’t make the same blunder two years in a row?

Nope, 15 minutes in, one cookie eaten and then a lapful of hot wassail.

I asked my Matthew about this last night, and he had this to add—According to him, anyone who has ever been to our church on a Christmas eve knows, it is not Christmas if you do not have a blistered and burned mouth and throat from wassail that is way hotter that it has any right to be.  Who needs to drink something that hot?  Coffee is not that hot, Tea is not that hot.  Why does wassail have to be served at a temperature hotter than the surface of the sun? No one knows.  But it always is.

Matthew said the reason he spilled both years is the same.  He ate a cookie, took a sip of hot wassail and then, “OH NO! FIRE! FIRE IN MY MOUTH!!! AHHH!!! SO HOT! PANIC!” followed by the loss of control in his hands and feet, causing him to stumble and let go of his cup of lava. Then “Wait, What? NO NO NO! MY PANTS ARE ON FIRE! MY LEG! MY LEG! ITS BURNING! I HAVE HOT WASSAIL LAVA ON MY SKIN!!!!!”

His version of the memory had me crying, literal tears of laughter. You know what they say, from the mouth of babes…

***disclaimer, this post in no way is meant as a slight to David Swenson, the former church chef who is rightly adored, or a slight to his loyal volunteers, it is just some serious hot wassail is all. 

The Nightmare before Christmas - Day 8

What would my Christmas blog be without something inappropriate?

I have mentioned that my sister and her kids were in Colorado last weekend. After dinner at Zaidys, and the insane amount of walking to see the light parade, we went to the Corner Bakery for desert and hot chocolate. Of course while we were there the kiddles all had to make a restroom stop. Since Matthew is 11, Keenan insisted that he and Matthew could go without supervision to the restroom.

When the two of them returned they were giggling and had the look of mischief about them. Figuring bathroom humor I didn’t ask. Sometimes it is better to let boys be boys, and what I don’t know doesn’t hurt me. Keenan however could not wait to tell the story. Apparently, in the stalls there are 1930’s pin up girl posters. (I went and checked it out after the fact). The posters are not really racy, and I think you see more skin in a Victoria Secrets ad. However, to hear 8 year old Keenan tell it, they were NAKED LADIES on display in the bathroom.

Matthew said he didn’t look, but Keenan explained there was no way you could not look, you have to stand right there to go, and the picture was right there, where else are you going to look? Matthew suggested you could close your eyes, but Keenan was sure that would lead to peeing your hands. Keenan assured all of us that he was not going to pee on his hands so he had to look.

In an effort to change the subject, my horrified sister said, “let’s thank uncle Judson for bringing us to this yummy desert place!” Keenan smiled like an angel and dutifully said “thank you Uncle Judson for bringing me to the place with the unappropriate naked ladies in the bathroom. You sure know how to bring the fun Uncle Judson.”

I am pretty sure Jenni is never coming back to Denver.

Fancy Nancy: Splendiferous Christmas Day 4

I wrote the other day about spending time with my sister Jenni and her family the first weekend in December. After we shared dinner at Zaidy’s we went downtown to see the light parade and the lighting up of the capital building. This is one of those Christmas things that I suspect always sounds better than it really is.

Do you know what a light parade is? It is a parade that has to happen after dark. Parades require certain streets be closed off so that cars don’t run over marching bands or crash into parade floats. So unless you are lucky enough that you live on the parade route you are going to have to park, and walk to where the parade is.
I hadn’t planned on walking. Sometimes a shoe that looks good with an outfit and is comfortable for a limited amount of walking, and standing and driving is not the shoe you want to wear for an outrageous amount of walking. And there was an outrageous amount of walking. Honestly we may as well have been in the parade.

However, in spite of my internal monologue that was silently cursing the holiday entities that were surely laughing at me, I noticed that my boys didn’t seem to mind the walking. Paul carried Keenan more than half the time. He had him thrown over his shoulder and Keenen was laughing. “Uncle, uncle, everyone is looking at us and they think Paul must be my Dad! How silly is that Uncle!” I don’t know how true that is, but it was fun to see.

Every time we got to a street we had to cross Jenni would say everyone find a partner, hold someone’s hand, and Naomi would run over to Matthew and grab his hand. I wish I had been able to get a picture of her looking at Matthew, she honestly adores him and I love that!

Finally we did manage to catch up with the tail end of the parade. Of course there were tons of people in front of us with a better view of what was going on. Kendrick picked up Naomi and put her on his shoulders. Keenan looked up and me, sized me up, then turned to Paul and asked Paul to show him the parade. My Paul is a strong tall boy and he just picked up his cousin and set him on his shoulders so he could watch the parade. Keenan had the best seat in the house and Paul let him sit up there for a good 30 minutes or so until the parade was over. How sweet was that?

After the parade was over there was still a ton of walking left to do, and both my boys got tons of cousin love all the way.

Sweet Smell of Christmas - Day 2

My sister Jenni and her family came to Denver unexpectedly this weekend. They are in the process of adopting a child from another country and the adoption agency is here and was hosting a conference. We met up with Jenni, Kendrick, Keenan and Naomi Saturday night in Cherry Creek and had dinner at Zaidy’s Deli.

I love my sister, and I dislike that I never get to spend very much time with her. It was a nice visit. Her children? ADORABLE!! Do you know what her children absolutely are crazy about? Their cousins Paul and Matthew. The kids were literally hanging on the boys through the meal. When Naomi’s meal came her Dad asked if she needed help cutting up her pancakes, she told him no and gave him a look that said, “Dad! I am a big girl, I don’t need your help!” But then one minute later she batted those beautiful brown eyes and handed Paul her knife and fork and he cut up her pancakes for her.

Matthew and Keenan are almost exactly 3 years apart and some years the two of them struggle to get along, but this was not one of those times. They chatted all through the meal, so much so that Keenan’s dinner was largely untouched. Although, he did help himself liberally to Matthew’s french fries.

At some point Keenan and Naomi gave my boys their Christmas gifts for this year. Each boy got a gift card for Barnes & Noble in a gift bag with holiday chocolates. Keenan had prepared Matthew’s bag and it was stuffed so full it could barely be closed at the top. Keenan swears it only has about 8 of each type of candy, but every time he told Matthew that he winked at him, which makes us believe he may have been overly generous with his favorite cousin. Naomi prepared Paul’s and there were EXACTLY 8 of each candy, and those 8 candies were all wrapped n the same color foil. Naomi wrote the card herself and was sure to tell Paul that she did it all herself. I am not sure whose smile was sweeter, the giver or the recipient.

When I tucked my Matthew in he summed it up perfectly, “Cousins make Christmas awesome!”

The Mitten - Day One

Happy December 2012! I am back again for another year of Christmas memories and such to share for the next 25 days. We have a bit of a blog redesign this year, I let Matthew help with the color scheme, hope you like it and find it as Christmasy as we do. So without any more prefacey commenty things here we go. . .

How do you decide what your holiday plans are? Do you always do the same things? Do you plan for different activities every year? Do you just wing it? As a parent, does it make it more difficult?

I ask because as a parent it KILLS me christmas since we moved to Denver. What I want, what I believe is the right thing, is that now that we live here in Colorado it is important for us to make friends here, to embrace this as our home and to make our holidays here. I also believe that holding on too tightly to the past and what we left behind in Oklahoma isn’t good for anyone. But when my boys tell me they miss their friends, that they miss their church, and most importantly that they miss their grandparents, it is difficult for me not to make that happen.

Before we became parents Kat and I went and did for the holidays based on external factors. What were Stephanie and Clyde doing? Were Kat’s folks coming to town? What were my Mom and Jenni doing? The one important thing for Kat and me was always that we had our Christmas party the Saturday before Christmas. Then we became parents and other things came in to play. It is challenging to travel with a baby. So staying home became the norm. Once Kat’s parents moved to Oklahoma it became easier to stay home and not travel.

Years ago I read a Dear Abby letter that had a woman complaining that they always traveled when her children were young and as a result never formed any holiday traditions of their own. I don’t even remember Abby’s answer, I know that I thought the woman was a whiny baby and missed the importance of being with her family and I wondered what kind of hag she was that her grown children didn’t want to spend the holidays with her. And now here I am, on the horns of a dilemma. All of my options are good, but what is the best for my boys? What is the best for my family? What makes Kat happiest? Am I the only one that struggles with this?

No matter what I choose someone will be let down. That is difficult for me. You can say there is always next year, but is there really? As I write this I haven’t made a decision yet, but my timeline is counting down, so I have to decide soon. It is something like my own personal version of the lady or the tiger. Which holiday wrapped door do I choose?

***When I wrote this in advance of December 1 I had not made a decision. Since then I have made a decision and even though I can’t satisfy everyone, the smiles on my boys faces when we told them our decision let me know I made the right decision.

I heard the bells on Twenty-Four

Christmas surprise.

This year we managed to pull off a big Christmas surprise. Our first Christmas in Denver we travelled back to Oklahoma City to surprise Kathleen’s parents. It was difficult for Kathleen and the boys to keep it a secret from her parents. We had help from Kat’s other sister Ann, and Kristy Swinney. Erica Snook and Amy Powell also did a good job of keeping quiet about the fact that we had Katie and Kyle stay with us in Denver for a few more days so we could bring them home to OKC with us. The drive wasn’t bad. The roads were pretty clear, although I hear NM is in pretty bad shape. My Dad is stuck in Santa Fe when he planned to be in California for Christmas.

The closer we got to OKC the more excited the boys got. When we were about an hour away my Mother-in-law texted Kat that she was going to bed. We panicked a little, and then we began stalling her. We texted that Kat was trying to post her nightly Christmas merriment status update on facebook and that she, Elisa, should wait to read it. Then we posted that Kat was having internet trouble. Which is not untrue, we don’t have wifi in the car.

When we pulled in the driveway Matthew called his Gramma and asked her to come downstairs and let him in. Surprise accomplished. Kat’s parents were surprised, but I am not sure who was more excited, the boys or their grandparents. Last night as Nolen was trying to go to bed, Paul said, “wait I have some things to tell you I will probably forget. . . “ It wasn’t important what Paul had to share, but what was important is the huge smile on my Paul’s face, and the dimples that he gets when he can’t stop smiling.

Do they know it's TWENTY-ONE at all?

The other night, before the Snook Powell tribe journeyed home, I took the children to Target to do some Christmas shopping. I know, I know it sounds like a weak idea, but it has its own subtle genius. A few years back Amy, Kat and I had taken Paul, Matthew, Katie and Elijah to Target right before Christmas and the kids were so busy with each other the adults were able to get some major gift shopping done.

This was my intention this time. Except, Paul was more interested in the gifts he was getting for other people, and Matthew decided to do his gift shopping in electronics. He was shocked, SHOCKED I tell you, when I said no to his plan of buying iPads for everyone on his list. Kyle was a pretty good trouper, he pushed a cart through the store, but every few minutes or so he would stop and ask me to buy him something.

The evening was not a total loss. Katie made most of Paul’s gift selections for him. Or, as she told it, she just gave him some good options to choose from. Unbeknownst to her he managed to sneak in a few gifts for her. A few weeks back he had called her and asked her what she might want. I believe he managed to get her everything she asked for. She was also a big help picking Kathleen’s gift. If not for her sage advice the boys might have purchased her feather earrings.

When it was finally time to check out little Kyle had reached a sugar induced fever pitch in his quest for someone to “buy me something!” Now Kyle is a very well behaved kid, and his behavior was in no way anywhere near the fits I have seen some other people’s children throw. In an attempt to change the subject I asked him if he knew what Santa says? He looked at me puzzled. “Ho,Ho, NO!” He shook his head and argued, “That is not what Santa says, Santa says ho, ho, YES!” To which I responded “ HO HO NO!” again. We went back and forth while waiting in line, then he made another effort to persuade me, “Jedsen, I can go all night with this ho ho yes, ho ho yes, ho ho yes, see? All night!” (This is actually pretty funny from the boy who is usually in bed before 8pm) I held my ground, “HO HO NO!”

Not to be dissuaded he tried another tactic, he picked up a Hershey chocolate bar and held it between two hands looking up at me with his most Oliver Twist face, “Please mister Jedsen, if you buy this we could share it” I admit I was tempted to give in, but I could see his cousin Katie making the OMG-are-you-falling-for-this face so instead I asked, “Does this work for anyone? Really? Who falls for this?”

Kyle sighed dramatically and put away the candy bar. “Amy falls for it”, he said.

“Really? Your Aunt Amy falls for that?”

“Well, sometimes, when she wants a candy bar”

From the mouth of babes.

Nineteen to Remember . . .

I am a little stumped on today’s blog. I was back in the office and my brain is kind of work addled at the moment. The Powell Snook contingent is still here at the house, and tonight after dinner the boys were playing on the wii in the living room. I thought I would take a small survey so I asked them what their favorite part of Christmas is. The boys range in age from Kyle who is 8 to Matthew who is 10, Elijah who is 11 and Paul who is 13. What was I thinking?

What is your favorite part of Christmas?

Elijah – presents and food

Matthew – being with family

Elijah – Are you serial?

Matthew – Well I like MY family.

Kyle – Hmmm hmmm hmmm hmmmm (he was eating a giant candy cane so the answer was not clear)

Paul – What is my favorite thing about Christmas?

Me – that is what I asked you

Paul – oh, did anyone say being with family?

Elijah – (passes gas loudly)

Paul – LIGE go stand over there

Matthew – I don’t want to be that close to family when Elijah does that.

Elijah – what? It smells like pizza

Katie (age 13) enters the room and I ask her

Me – Katie, what is your favorite part of Christmas?

Katie - I don’t know. What is that smell?!?!?! ELIJAH!!!

I should have known better!

The SEVEN Joys of Mary

Stats

Blogging is an interesting thing. The first year I did it, mostly it was just for fun, and I didn’t think anyone would read it. But then my mom’s friend Sybil read it and commented, and that was positive reinforcement. Then Sandy Tuttle read it and sent me an email and that was good too.

Last year I paid more attention to the stats that I get on the blog site. I could see how many page views each blog entry had. Last year it was the Granfa Owin’s fudge entry that was the most popular. But sometime recently the Advent Calendar entry pulled ahead.

The other interesting thing I get to see is where the blog is being read. I had readers from Canada, and Japan (Hi Becky!), Malaysia (which I think was just church friends on a mission trip). But I have been surprised to see that I have had visitors from Russia, Brazil, Slovenia, Germany, Netherlands, and Denmark. I don’t think I know anyone in those places, so how cool is that? For those readers I want to say ‘Hey thanks for stopping by and Pozdrevlyayu s prazdnikom Rozhdestva is Novim Godom! Boas Festas! vesel božič! Froehliche Weihnachten! Vrolijk Kerstfeest! Glædelig Jul!

But perhaps the most fascinating stats I get to see is what websites people find me from. Lots of readers come from facebook, which makes sense because I post when I blog. I also get readers from yandex.ru which is some Russian site that I think is like Google, which explains the Russian readers. I get some readers from my friend Jessica at Overflowingbookshelf. And of course I get readers who find me from Google. What I really love is seeing what Google searches led people to me. Judson’s 25 days blogspot is the big one, (duh, right?). Granfa Owin’s fudge gets a lot of hits, followed by JC Farrand, Shawnee OK. I hope that no one was disappointed when the searched the last one and found my blog about how I was disappointed in his Christmas eve service one time. It was all about me, not about what he did. I also had some people who found me searching for the lyrics to On December Five and Twenty say Fum, Fum, Fum. A couple of people looking for Advent Calendars in Albuquerque stopped by, and so did someone wondering why the advent calendar had no candy on the 24th. I didn’t provide any answers, but that does explain how Granfa Owin’s fudge got edged out in November.

My top favorite search that led someone to my site really makes me laugh, but then it leaves me wondering so many things. The stats don’t tell me who did the searching, or what they read once they were here, or where they were from or anything like that. And in the case of this last search I might be better off NOT knowing. Because what would I say to someone who Google searched “vinyl pants” Christmas? I mean SERIOUSLY?!?!?!?

"Once in Royal David's City. . ."

Welcome back! It is December 1st and once again I plan on sharing a funny, cheesy, moving or something memory a day for the next 25 days. Why? Because it entertains me, and for no other reason. But isn’t that reason enough?

So for day one let’s look back to Christmas Eve 1991. Kat and I had been married only a few months and could not afford to go home to either one of our parents homes for Christmas. We planned to spend Christmas with Kat’s sister Stephanie and her husband Clyde and his family in Wister. I had never been to Wister, and Kat had only been once.

This was in the dark ages before gps, so Stephanie called Kat and gave her directions, which Kat wrote down on a piece of paper, with a pen. Oh man, how did we ever survive?!?! Stephanie told Kathleen to take I-40 to Sallisaw, then take 59 south till you get to Poteau, where it becomes 271, once you get to Poteau, you keep going to Wister, but do NOT cross over lake Wister, go past the road to lake Wister.

It was cold and dark and the car had a heater that barely worked. We didn’t have any trouble getting to Poteau, other than the cold. We left Poteau, saw the sign that said Lake Wister this way, and we turned to avoid it, crossed over the lake and could not find the house. So back across the lake and all the way to Poteau. We regrouped at the Tote a Poke (go ahead and laugh, but I am not making that up). After reviewing the instructions, we tried again, once again avoiding the road that said LAKE WISTER and once again crossing all the way over the lake. Once again we could not find the house.

Getting a little frustrated we returned to the Tote a Poke and called Stephanie. She was relieved to hear from us and gave us the instructions again. Third time is the charm right? Wrong. Still back and forth across the lake and could not find the house. So back to Tote a Poke. This time we ran into Chad Brooks. Chad and I had run track at OBU together and running into him well after midnight on Christmas Eve in a Tote a Poke in Poteau, where he was wearing overalls and no shirt and buying beer was just a small part of the increasingly surreal evening.

This time when called, Stephanie had us wait and she came and got us. We got to Clyde’s parents house well after 2am, and eagerly went to bed. Around 530 am we were awakened a loud banging sound. Clyde’s mother Dorothy was running through the house banging a pot with a big spoon shouting for us to wake up wake up because Santa was here. Really? Did I mention that the only child in the house was Elisa Gail and she was less than 3 months old? But how do resist Dorothy Forrest? So Kat, Stephanie, Clyde, Marqueta, Jay and I dragged our very sleepy selves into the living room and opened presents. I don’t remember what I got, but I do remember a nap before breakfast!

Rosemead Christmas

As I am sitting in the Denver Airport waiting to board my flight home to Oklahoma City I am reminded of the very first time I ever flew on a plane when I was in the third grade. We were living in Tucson Arizona with my mom. For Christmas Jenni and I flew to LAX, all by ourselves, to spend Christmas with my Dad, Rebecca and her whole family. I am sure that we must have spent time with the Kinkade family in CA, but I don’t remember that. What I remember, what stands out most about that year, was the Casares Christmas in the house on Guess Street in Rosemead.

I think that may have been one of Grampa Roy’s last Christmases, or maybe everyone always showed up for Christmas? All the cousins were there, Amber, Anna, Diana, little Mike, Laura and even Uncle Rick’s girlfriend (ex-wife?) was there with baby Jeremy. I think Uncle Roy was working for a radio station at that time, because all the kids got ball caps with the radio call sign on them. Rebecca had waited until we were there to do the Christmas shopping for the cousins, (what was she thinking?), so we went with her to the mall. Jenni and I paid careful attention as Dad and Rebecca made their purchases.

As soon as we got back to the Rosemead house the very first thing we did was blurt out what everyone was getting for Christmas. DOH! I can’t imagine that anyone was too pleased. When we opened presents Christmas day I was surprised as everyone else that ‘Santa’ had given what I thought was little Mike’s gift to Diana, Amber’s gift to Anna, Laura’s gift to little Mike, etc. Someone got a set of jacks, and Rebecca and Aunt Nancy showed us kids how it was done. I had never seen adults play jacks before, but they had some serious skills.

After presents there was an amazing Christmas meal. Gramma Lucy had made a ham and all the fixing, plus red chile, rice and beans. A first for me. I’d like to say I loved the red chile, but I did not have the taste for spicy foods as a child that my boys do now. Other things I remember, endless games of tag (man could Diana run FAST), and hide & seek (NOT IN THE HOUSE), and in general the kind of family fun Christmas you would want for a child to experience.

Day Eightteen

In 1999 we traveled for the holidays. Paul was 20 months old and we drove to Missouri for Thanksgiving with my grandparents and Dad and Aunt Joy and Uncle Dale and various cousins. Then for Christmas we traveled to Santa Fe for Christmas Eve, and then Christmas morning we drove to Parker Colorado. That is a LOT of driving for one family, and a lot of car seat time for Paul. Luckily, Paul is a pretty laid back traveler even then.

We got to Santa Fe around 2pm on Christmas Eve. We hung out at my Dad’s house with my brother Ben, (Dad was already in Colorado with his sister Pat and my sister Jenni). That evening Kat, Paul, Ben and I went to Christmas Eve service at First Baptist Church Santa Fe, which had been my church home when I was in HS, and the church Ben grew up in.

The service was nice and very familiar. Paul thought it was a little long, and so at least twice he climbed down from the pew and out into the aisle and ran for the door. Ben was fast on his feet and went after him both times and scooped him up and brought him back and did his best to keep him entertained during the service. When church was over we shook some hands and then we were headed for the door when Earlene Groseclose stopped me at the door and said how sweet to see us again, and what a beautiful family and all those nice things people usually say. Then she said that she really enjoyed seeing Ben run after Paul because it didn’t seem like that long ago that I had been chasing after Ben as he made a break for it. That made me feels good.

Then we went to Pojoaque to Ben’s Mom’s for a traditional New Mexican Christmas Eve dinner of red and green chile enchiladas. I told Rebecca what Earlene had said and that I thought it was sweet. She agreed it was sweet that what was remembered about me and Ben, and what brought those memories rushing back, was basically bad behavior and parents who couldn’t keep their kids sitting still in church.

Don’t judge. Sarcasm and bad behavior in church is just how us Kinkade’s roll.

Day Four

I was talking last night with my niece Elisa who is 18, and I was reminding her that for many many years Kat and I bought her pretty Christmas dresses to wear to our party and other holiday events. She reminded me that I also purchased her shoes too.

I think she was 4 at the time, and Kat and I had already bought her dress and given it to her. The day of the party I had to run to Wal-mart to get ice and a few other things, and trying to entertain the 4 year old I took Elisa with me. When we parked the car I told her we needed three things, and told her what the three things were and asked her to remember them. Then I asked her as we walked in, “what were those three things?”And “How many things?” I was trying to make a game of remembering what we needed and staying on point so we could get out of the store in a timely manner.

Everything was going well until we came upon a large aisle display of Christmas shoes. They had garishly sparkly high heel prostitute looking shoes with holly leaves painted on them, red wizard of oz shoes, and little girls velvet slippers with Christmas wreathes embroidered on the toes. Elisa was fascinated. Trying to stay on point I asked, “How many items do we need?” “Three, plus SHOES” she answered. I reminded her that shoes were not on the list, and she countered with “but I want them to be on the list.”

I tried to tell her no, but she said “please uncle Jedson, please buy me these shoes.” Who can resist that? They were only $10 and they were kinda cute so I said ok. But then we could not find any in her size, in fact the only ones we could find were two sizes too small. Of course, those were the very ones she wanted. I tried to explain to her that they did not fit, and we could not get them. She assured me they did fit, and sat down and put them on to demonstrate. Sure enough she could get them on, and she could get them buckled. I wasn’t convinced thought, and I really did not want her to be wearing shoes that didn’t fit. I told her they would hurt her feet when she wore them, and she offered the ultimate rebuttal “But I am tough like my daddy.”

Now, if you know my brother in law Clyde, you know that is not an argument you can counter. So I bought the shoes.

She did wear them to the party and took them off once they started to hurt, which was fine. Then Christmas eve we went down to Okmulgee and went to church with Stephanie and Elisa. Elisa wanted to wear her Christmas shoes. I noticed as we walked into the church that she was walking very slowly. “Do your feet hurt?” I asked. She adamantly denied that they did. But as the service went on, with the walking to the front for the candles, and then walking to courtyard to make a circle, it was pretty obvious that she was limping. When her 4 year old determination gave out and Elisa started whining that her feet hurt, Stephanie told me, “You did this, you deal with it.” So I picked Elisa up and carried her for the rest of the service. When the service, and the requisite meet and greet after was finally over and we got back to the house and I was helping Elisa get ready for bed I discovered that yes the shoes were too small, but that she had worn them on the wrong feet all night.