Tabatha Deans

Bringing Integrity to the Written Word

Our own perceptions

Once again, Petra, who is nearing 5 years old, reminded me of how our perceptions are our own, and everyone is entitled to their own reality. And of course, she taught me this lesson using boots. My boots.

It was a Grammy weekend, and Robert and I were getting ready to take Petra to the park. We had planned to walk all the way up to McDonald’s, about a half mile away, but realized Petra had left her shoes in Jessica’s car. No worries for Petra, she headed to my closet to raid my shoes, and returned with her favorite pair of red Gucci, spiked heel boots. I got them years ago because they were beautiful and free, but have been unable to walk in them other than the occasional trip around the house. She has loved them from the time she could walk, and every trip to our house involves her prancing around in them.

She came out wearing the Gucci boots, and was ready for the park. Robert and I, only concerned with whether or not she could make the journey in the boots, began talking her out of them.

“Those boots won’t work,” I said.

“Why?” Petra asked.

“Those aren’t good heels, you won’t be able to walk in them.”

“Yes I can,” she walked around the living room.

“Well, they won’t work. Find something else.” I knew I was right.

She marched back to my closet and returned wearing another pair of boots. Shiny black leather with two inch heels, that came up over her knee. She looked very much like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.

“Those won’t work.” I said.

“Why not?” Petra asked. I couldn’t tell her that she looked like a tiny lady of the evening, and that Robert and I would be judged as the worst grandparents on the block.

“Those heels are too high,” I said.

“No they’re not,” she again pranced around the room confidently and steadily.

“Ugh, pick something else,” I said.

She returned with a third pair, a black suede pair with a wedge heel. Still had the look of Pretty Woman, but we were wearing down so I only half-heartedly tried to talk her out of them. Robert and I decided we would only go as far as the park, and figured it would be a painfully slow walk with her marching in oversized boots.

“These will work Grammy. Look, they don’t have a sharp heel,” Petra made her case.

“Okay, let’s go then,” we headed out the garage, Petra ahead of us, as we watched her clomp down the driveway to the sidewalk.

The moment her feet hit the level sidewalk, Petra began running, lifting her knees high, not the least bit wobbly. She had the biggest smile on her face, and her blond hair was blowing in the wind as she turned to yell back at us.

“Look, look what these boots can do Grammy!”

We heard the clomping all the way around the corner, as we hustled to keep up with her through the neighborhood.

September 7, 2018 - Posted by | Uncategorized

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