This morning I bravely ventured upstairs and opened the door of my 17 year old son's bedroom. It's something I do now and again to remove any stray plates, replenish bathroom supplies and turn off the TV he left on way too loud. What struck me was not that that dark blue carpet was hidden by scattered clothes or that he had failed to mention that two of the three light bulbs had burned out. What struck me was the shoes.
They were everywhere. Piled in the closet and under the bed. They were stacked in corners and hidden under clothes. How? Why? I asked myself. This vision before me brought back a memory of seeing a photo of Imelda Marcos and her giant shoe collection. OK, maybe it wasn't as dramatic as Imelda but she had at least thirty more years of collecting on my boy.
I had to confront him and how this massive accumulation had evolved.
He attempted an explanation. "There's my basketball, running and cross-trainers. There's a few for soccer (indoor and outdoor), football cleats and a few that I wear after sports. There's my nice shoes in a few colors and the ones I wear to school. There's a few pairs of flip flops and topsiders for casual wear and others just because they're cool." I was starting to feel that maybe I overreacted until he added, "Oh yea, a bunch of them don't fit anymore. How about we go to the mall."
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2 comments:
What a delightful visual. Thanks.
Congratulations on raising a perfectly normal human being. His future looks bright.
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