The Great Shoe Debate

Call Me Mother of the Year.

As autumn approached, Runner Up and I continued our yearly debate about my footwear. Being a vastly more sensible woman than I, Runner Up tends toward Sketchers and flats as she chases after Other Half. I, being younger and dumber, tend toward boots. Specifically, one pair of boots. I love these boots. Black suede, pointed toe, knee high. These boots are fierce. Sadly for me, these boots also have a three-inch stiletto spike heel. Still fierce, but not exactly sensible for chasing small ones around. Doesn't matter. I wear these bad boys everywhere.

Runner Up maintains that I'm going to kill myself in these boots and she will laugh at my funeral because she was right. I hold that I'm going to die anyway, and I may as well go out with good-looking feet. Normally, this is where the debate ends.

This weekend was the first snowfall. Three to five inches. Peanut was seriously pleased and blew through a couple of happy hours exploring the winter wonderland. Runner Up and I were relating stories of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness today when the boots came up.

"You're gonna slip and fall flat on your face!"
"I haven't yet."
"When you fall and chip a tooth, come to me and I'll fix it." (Item: Runner Up is a dentist. Her husband is our dentist. This works well for me.)

For the record, the boots that are currently on my feet are my snow boots. I may attempt to be a fashion-forward mommy, but I'm not quite that foolish. Besides, snow may ruin the suede. Can't have that.

Call me Mother of the Year.