Clown Feet

So it's no surprise that when a child has a father with size 14 flippers, he's not exactly going to have the toes of a prima ballerina.

In this phase of dylan's growth, a time I affectionately refer to as..."the time of the weed", my toddler has developed not only in height but also in foot.

Thus, we took our first official trip to a shoe store.

Up until now, I've just held up shoes to the bottom of his foot and said "Eh...that'll do" but now that he RUNS and JUMPS, I've decided that more effort and time needs to be placed into the acquirement of footwear.

We brought along Nana and Daddy.

Nana played traffic cop to dylan has he desperately wanted to run up and down the mountainess aisles of timberlands, sketchers and work boots.

Daddy took on the role of Official Foot Measurer (OFM). A role you would think would be a peice of cake since you know..he's in medical school and all.

Not so much.

FOUR times the OFM measured our squirmy toddlers toes. And each time he kept getting "Size 9.5".

We asked the poor shoe lady to bring us out some sneakers in that size, since that MUST be the correct size if our OFM is a genious med student .

And when she returned, a slight smile spread across her face when she took one look at our 18 month old.

The sneakers she handed to us,  I SWEAR could have fit me.

NO WAY was that the right size. And between my college educated brain and my husband's half dr brain...we just couldn't understand where we went wrong.

Luckily, Shoe-Lady rescued us, showing the OFM just how it was done. Unfortunately,  our toddler was not so interested in being measured for the 1,000th time.

We managed to make it out of the Shoe Store with a pair of sneaks that did not resemble skis.

And our OFM's pride still intact.