Slippers

Ah, the joys of winter. Being a pent-up, home-bound, cabin-fevered child of four requires a mother to be creative.

Crafts.

Painting.

1 hour of Sesame Street

Tea parties.

Dance parties.

*sigh* And, invetibly, the childhood game of tag.

I try to avoid the game of tag whenever possible. It involves exertion which is something I don't feel like doing, even if it will take the edge off my high-strung, hepped-up-on-fruit-snacks daughter. It's work.

The game of tag in our house goes something like this:
1. Morgan yells "Tag! You're it."
2. I run after her at a steady enough clip where she thinks I'm really trying. She giggles incessantly.
3. We both forget we have stocking feet and Morgan slips on the hardwood floor.
4. Crying ensues.
5. The wounded is comforted.
6. Repeat steps 1-5 about 10 times.

Last night I wised up. "Dan," I said, "Let's go out and buy our daughter some slippers with grips on the bottom. Her feet will stay warm and she won't slip on the hardwoods." Good idea, self. Good idea.

Well apparently some major gift giving holiday just passed because Target had a selection of only two slippers that would fit Morgan. I was gunning for the little ducky slippers, but Morgan found the Dora ones. I tried to sell her on the idea of the duckies, but I'm no match for Nickelodeon's marketing tentacles. Dora it was.

Let me describe these slippers to you: They are everything a little girl would want in a slipper. They're pink and purple. They have all manner of glossy, irritating graphics on them. Most importantly, they have a Dora bust mounted on the front. Let me rephrase: These overly stuffed foot gear looked like two miniature cruise ships with Dora figureheads on them. My daughter looks like she's about to set sail for the port of "Gawdy". Her delicate feet were transformed into two vessels of shameless Nickelodeon marketing.

What's more- they have a little miniature backpack (important feature to ANY Dora marketing) mounted towards the back of the shoe. Now, what in name of all things purple she's going to do with a backpack that small is a mystery to me. But it's there. Big enough to hold a quarter.

To be fair, the slippers had the grippies on the bottom which was my only technical stipulation for these puppies. Note to self: add more stipulations to future purchases.

And this morning, Morgan eagerly donned her new slippers for the breakfast table. It was a success.

In the end, I learned something that I already knew: I love my daugther so much that I'm willing to go against every sensible design fiber in my being to make her day a little happier. Oh, for the love of Morgan.