Groundhog Day

On February 2nd, Mr. Smarty Pants awoke and saw his shadow.  You know what that means folks. Yep, six more years of teens for him. Of course, even if he hadn’t seen his shadow the same would be true.

Mr. Fourteen tortured my bank account for his birthday by buying a pair of shoes. Yes, you read correctly. A PAIR of shoes. My monetary contribution didn’t even cover it. He had to toss in some birthday money to cover the remaining cost as the sales clerk and I shook our heads at the unfathomable concept of blowing money on a single pair of shoes. I know some folks think nothing of dropping a hundred plus on shoes, but they aren’t at the apex of teen growth, outgrowing things faster than weeds in my garden– and I have some seriously vigorous weeds. A day later he has a pair of shoes just like the ones he chose, but in a different color. I’m informed that he and one (or two?) of his friends who happen to wear the same size rotate their shoes so it looks like they have multiple pairs. I warned him that I’ll have no sympathy if they all get athletes’ foot.

Being an old fogey, and clearly far removed from the ways of the “cool people” I of course asked what the point of all this was.

“To impress girls.”

Well, silly me, of course. I mean, shoes are exactly what I always went by when crushing on a boy. I asked what happened to liking a boy because he was nice and looks good.

Mr. Smarty Pants grinned. “I already got that down.”

No ego problems here.


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