My mom recently bought all the kids new Crocs. It's sort of a rite of spring around here. Summer is coming! It might be 70 degrees today, or there could be a blizzard! Let's go buy foam shoes!
Tre opted for traditional Crocs in a sober black, which does not disguise the fact that they are enormous. I can no longer borrow his shoes to run out the garden, because I will trip and kill myself. This irritates me. Also? As of last weekend he is officially taller than me. The child is so grounded.
Max and Raphael went with flip-flop styles, or Croc-flops. Raphi's are silly big on him, which he thinks makes him look bigger, but really just serves to make him look like a little boy trying to look bigger. I am forced to smooch the top of his head. You know, while I can still reach it.
But Mom also brought back a pair of wee little pink Crocs for Sophia. When I first saw them I thought, oh, cute. Aren't they small? What is it about making something in a tiny little size that makes it adorable? But then I wrestled them onto her squishy feet, and I promptly died of the cute.
And the best part about it is that when she's wearing them, she stomps around with this determined, flat-footed gait that perfectly fits the other thing Mom gave her recently - her new nickname. Mom hit upon just the name to capture Sophia's blend of daintiness and viciousness.
Sophia is now, in her pink Crocs that are just the size of a small dinner roll, Tinkerbell the Hun.