Yesterday I took the kids to the mall. On Saturday. Crazy, I know. We were on a mission to get some new Sunday shoes since R2's feet basically skipped a half size last month. We went to Nordstrom because they're having a sale. R2 has serious shoe opinions (yes, she's my daughter!), so the only parameters I gave her were that they had to be appropriate for church dress and they had to feel perfectly comfortable on her feet at the moment we purchased them (I'm already on to her shoe shenanigans). She zeroed in fast. The heels. I didn't expect it. She was dead set on them. She tried them on. Love.
I said, "Daddy's going to have a heart attack, you know."
Big grin. "That's okay."
So we bought them.
Daddy's comment: "There's no running in heels. I can already see your muscles straining when you walk." And then (after a firm reminder from his wife), "They look beautiful on you, sweetie."
That's all she needed to hear.
These are they.
She wears them with little girl anklet socks.
To make me feel better.
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