Ever since you began wearing shoes, at a little over a year old you’ve resisted them. At first you just flew into a screaming rage every time your mom tried to put them on you. She would give up pretty quickly because your tantrum just made the shoes seem not worth the trouble.
Until one day just after you began walking she refused to take them off. You kept screaming and kicking and rolling on the floor and she calmly said, “Cry all you want. You are wearing the shoes,” and she walked into the other room. When she didn’t come back you got up and followed her. Wearing the shoes. Later that night, when it was bedtime and time to take the shoes off you realized you liked how they felt. You cried and cried when she took them off to put on your pajamas. Every day after that you loved your shoes.
That is, until you got a new pair. Your auntie loves to buy you shoes, so you often have new ones. And every time you just hate them. You cry and scream until you are tired and then you get up and wear the shoes. And you love them. There are so many. Pink converse, red and silver Tom’s, brown and pink lace-up boots, grey suede boots. Each is your favorite now, but not until after you’ve screamed and cried about them at first.
Then one Sunday, a friend of your mom’s goes to a yard sale and finds an old pair of orange rubber boots with a giraffe on them. They’ve definitely seen better days, but you put them on as if you’ve always loved them. You just step right into them without a thought and tromp across the back yard. Without a whimper. And in a moment of clarity you realize that you like shoes. You really like them, especially if they are orange and adorned with a giraffe.