The other day I was hunting for something for my daughter. Even to the point of digging around under my bed, where I came across a pair of my son’s shoes instead.
The soles were worn almost smooth, there were no ‘inners’ at all and they gave new meaning to ‘threadbare’.
I remembered I’d stashed them there a couple of years ago, so he might have been 11 or 12.
We’d purchased a replacement pair that had sat pristinely on the mat by the front door for at least two weeks.
It’s times like those when I hear the voice of my mother-in-law in my head asking me if he’s really going to leave the house dressed like that… the answer was usually yes…
However, I’d obviously felt the need to take more drastic measures.
Now at 14, he’s matured and that would never happen again…
My husband was also (pleasantly?) surprised that I hadn’t just thrown them in the bin…
Tough Mother 