Audrey the Fire Cat

My mom thinks my daughter Audrey is the greatest thing ever.  Actually, it’s nice to have someone regularly sing Audrey’s praises, because it keeps things in perspective for me, and helps me not to focus on the squealing/screaming/yelling all the livelong day.  (Audrey, enjoying her standard ear-piercing decibel level, will often joyously proclaim at the top of her lungs, “I’M LOUD!!!“)

Audrey is similarly smitten with Grandma, because a) she is always available to read a book to her, and b) wears jewelry, which are probably Audrey’s two highest criteria for character evaluation.

So, of course, Audrey and Grandma sit next to each other at the dinner table when my mom and stepdad come over for their weekly visits.

Last week, my mom looked over at Audrey and started chuckling.  “What was that book?  The one with the cat who…”  Immediately, I knew where my mom was going with this.  “…has huge paws that he needs to grow into?”

The Fire Cat,” we all answered her, since we own the book, and everyone is familiar with the story.  “Pickles the Fire Cat.”

“Hahaha!  Yes, that’s right.  Audrey…”  my mom went on about the parallels between the two, largely dwelling on foot size.

I glowered.

I seriously have the biggest, ugliest feet of anyone I know, and it was much to my consternation that, from literally hours after her birth, everyone was exclaiming over Audrey’s ginormous feet.  Why couldn’t I have given my big feet gene — which I got, incidentally, from my mother — to my sons???  Nope, it’s my girly girl, who is absolutely enamored with shoes, who gets the too-big-for-cute-shoes-and-don’t-even-think-about-strappy-sandals foot-size gene.

She won’t even be three until April, and at last weigh-in, was 27 lbs.  The last pair of shoes I got for her were toddler size 9, which are typically worn by four or five year olds.  Compound it with her spindly little legs, it’s sadly comical.

My own dear husband has held shoes I’ve purchased for Audrey, asking skeptically, “You sure these will fit?  They look way too big.”  Then, she tries them on… yes, they fit.

Poor girl.

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About Karen Joy

I'm a partially-homeschooling mother of six -- 3 boys ages 19, 17 and 15 years old, and three girls: 11, 8, and 3. I like birding, reading, writing, organic gardening, singing, playing guitar, hiking, the outdoors, and books. I very casually lead a very large group of homeschooling families in the Phoenix area. I have a dear hubby who designs homes for a local home builder and who is the worship pastor of our church. I live in the desert, which I used to hate, but now appreciate.

Posted on January 26, 2009, in Babies, Books for children, Shoes, The Dear Hubby, The Kids. Bookmark the permalink. 6 Comments.

  1. Awww. Poor baby.

    I don’t even want to TELL you what I inherited from my mother. It could be worse. 🙂

  2. It’s always a possibility she’s an early bloomer that will stop blooming early, foot-size speaking.

    I had size 13 feet in the 7th grade, after spurting up one and a half sizes a year, and discovered that wearing size 14s seemed to kill their motivation to grow, since they haven’t grown for the last five years. Sure, I looked ridiculous as a young teenager, but I’m glad they stopped growing when they did. 14s and up are ridiculously tough to find.

    Nick

  3. She is soooooooooooooooooooooooooooo cute! Wah! I love those Mary Janes, never mind what size they are!

  4. My 10 yo wears the same size shoes I do,which are 10-11. It will all even out in the end.

  5. She’s adorable and like others have said, it will even out in the end.

  6. My daughter is the same way. We took a big ol’ family picture when she was four or five weeks old, right before we left for Mongolia. My mom said, “Oh, I’ll buy her some shoes to wear in the picture while we are at Sears.” She did and brought them to the studio. They didn’t fit. She told the photographer, “Wait a minute.” She ran to the infant section and grabbed the next biggest size. They didn’t fit. And on it went. In the end, my delicate little infant daughter was wearing size three patent leather shoes that were called “climbers.” It was rather ridiculous.

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