Just Say Yes

Do you remember not getting what you wanted? I mean, it still happens to me and, quite frankly, I don't like it any more in my fifties than I did at 5. I cry less even if I do pout the same. But, no, I'm referring to that time as a kid when that seemingly reasonable request was just flat out denied. A request that seemed so benign but didn't even warrant a "we'll see" response. I'm not talking about a request to see "Hair" at the Dorothy Chandler as a 12 year old in 1969. (Denied: Nudity.)  I'm talking about "no" to white tennis shoes vs. black. (Denied: Undeclared.)

Like so many mysteries of childhood, age and parenthood provide the insight to reveal just how these snap denials came to be; and how unreasonable such decisions can be and might have been back then. Case in point: Light-up shoes. If you have contact with a child under the age of 8 you should have at least tangential knowledge of the subject. If not, light-up shoes are sports shoes with little lights incorporated into the soles that light up with each step. In short, when wearing them the kid looks like a priority one ambulance running down the sidewalk.

Tangential knowledge is where Tam and I had hoped our encounter with light-up shoes would end. Evan wanted, wished, and (politely) begged to get a pair. "No." All the kids at his pre-school have them. "No. We'll get a new pair of Pumas." "But I want light-up shoes."

After a few weeks of this it became quite obvious to me that a.) both his mother and I hate those freakin' light-up shoes and b.) our objection and denial had no basis in substance.  In short, we had become the "no" parents.  In spite of the fact we both recognize the value in not getting into fights over trivial clothing choices; in spite of the fact we both recognize the value in not getting in fights over bedtime books; in spite of the fact we make a conscious effort not to get wrapped up in battles of no consequence with a 4 year old: here we were putting our foot down (intended) over (those annoying, cheap, stupid) light-up shoes.

Evan has had his light-up shoes now for just about two weeks. His feature the character Lightning McQueen and are wired with enough lights that cars would pull to the shoulder should he be seen walking in the rear-view mirror. So far he is not showing any signs of tiring of them. Nor is he tiring of demonstrating their function by stomping his feet for the casual observer.

This was definitely a proper yes. Ev loves his new shoes. We'll get over this. We'll survive light-up shoes. Personally, we hope he gets over them pretty soon as well.