So we walked out with a black pair and some no-show socks...since I've been told they get extremely stinky if you wear them barefoot. Z wanted to wear his new shoes to church, so I handed him the socks....and the protest began. The shoes were pretty snug with the sock on and he did not hesitate to gritch and moan about it. I said fine...put them back in the box; I'm taking them back. He screamed NO! It was one of the classic arguments we have...he doesn't want to wear/eat/do something but when you suggest the opposite action, he gets way out of line and doesn't want to wear/eat/do that either and then you're stuck there in limbo land.
To shorten the already too-long story, there was a lot of yelling, seat kicking, screaming and tears over those blasted shoes...David called them bloody shoes and Z yelled through sobs, insisting the shoes didn't have any blood on them. At one point, he hugged them and told me they were NOT getting returned. Oh my goodness, it was a no-win for all of us. I told him if he didn't chill out, we were going straight home...and yes, that's what we ended up doing. The screaming got louder as we passed the church and didn't stop. I told him as soon as we got home, he was to go to his room and I would bring him his supper there and that his day was now over.
Who knew Tom's could evoke such emotion...and make a kid scream that he was no longer your kid, no longer your friend and that you are the meanest mommy ever and that he is never going to talk to you again? Of course, right after he said he wasn't going to talk to me anymore....he kept talking....
