"Mommy, I don’t want to wear my purple shoes anymore." My 4-year-old daughter gently pushed away the shoes I’d laid out for school the next day.
"Sweetie — why not? They’re your favorites!”
To say I was surprised was a huge understatement.
The purple shoes were a dark purple — almost a regal color — and crafted out of buttery suede with matching laces
My daughter, Samantha, had picked them out herself while school shopping and loved them to distraction. I sometimes caught her admiring them on her feet, turning them this way and that. It didn’t matter that purple didn’t always go with the rest of her outfit; she proudly donned the shoes every day, no matter the weather or the season.
“I just don’t,” she said, nudging them further into her closet.
“OK,” I said, settling her on my lap, wondering what could have changed her mind.
While I debated with myself if I was overreacting about the shoes, the next time I picked Samantha up at preschool, I approached her teacher, Mrs. Marshall.
“Mrs. Marshall, I feel silly asking you about this, but Samantha has stopped wearing her favorite shoes and I’m not sure why. It may not be anything…,” I finished weakly. “I probably shouldn’t even bring it up."
“Ah, yes, the purple shoes,” Mrs. Marshall said, comprehension dawning on her face
"She loves those shoes,” I said. “And she refuses to wear them now. Did something happen?”
Mrs. Marshall paused. “I believe there was an incident.”
“What, what?” I said, my Momma Bear instincts kicking in.
Mrs. Marshall discreetly drew me aside, all the while scanning the classroom for Samantha as she collected her things to go home.
“Another child made a remark”
"What child, what remark?” I said, my Momma Bear persona now in overdrive.
“For privacy reasons, I can’t tell you the name of the child. But Samantha may want to share the incident with you."
"What did the child say?" I demanded.
"I think,” Mrs. Marshall said, furrowing her brow, “the child said something about ‘clown shoes.’ I didn’t actually hear the comment, but Samantha mentioned it to me. I did talk to the other child and explained it wasn’t a nice thing to say.”
My fists clenched, I thanked the teacher and pasted a smile on my face as Samantha approached
That night, as I got Samantha ready for bed, I told her Mrs. Marshall had mentioned a classmate commented on her shoes.
Immediately, Samantha burst into tears. “Abby said they looked like clown shoes,” she sobbed.
“What’s wrong with clown shoes?” I asked. “Clowns are fun, right?" (I’m not a fan of clowns but didn’t want to get into that subtext).
“She said I had big feet!”
Understanding dawned. Samantha was one of the tallest kids in her class. And not surprisingly, her feet were proportional to her height and definitely larger than the other kids’ feet. The purple shoes certainly did nothing to minimize their size. While Samantha never minded being the tallest, and in fact, she seemed to enjoy towering over the other kids, being teased for big feet was a new wrinkle.
I didn’t know Abby, but without thinking, I said, “Well, Abby has issues”
“What?” Samantha turned her tear-stained face to me.
“She was probably jealous because she wanted purple shoes like you, so she made an unkind remark.”
“Do I have big feet?”
“Not compared to mine.“ I stretched out my size 9.5 feet. “But you’re a tall girl and you would look silly with little feet, don’t you think? Plus, you can run really fast with your feet. Why would you want them any other size?”
“OK,” Samantha sniffed.
The next day at school, it was Mrs. Marshall who sought me out.
“There has been another incident,” she said.
“The girl said something else to Samantha?”
“Er, no, Samantha said something to the girl.“
“What did she say?” I said uneasily.
“Samantha told her she had ‘issues’ this morning during reading hour.”
“Oh, no,” I said. “Uh, I think she got that from me.”
“I figured that,” Mrs. Marshall responded.
“Oh, dear, I didn’t expect her to turn around and repeat it. I was just trying to explain why the girl said something like that in the first place.” Too late. I realized I wasn’t doing myself any favors with this lame explanation.
Worse, as I listened to myself, I realized I sounded like a grown-up version of Abby
“Did Abby — er, the girl — say something to provoke Samantha?"
“No. Samantha has been avoiding her, but today she marched right over to her and announced that she had issues.”
“Oh, gosh – I’m sorry – what did the girl say?”
“I’m not sure she knew what it meant, but she sensed it was bad and started to cry,” Mrs. Marshall said.
I felt terrible. My offhand remark had triggered a flood of tears from a pre-schooler. While I wanted to teach Samantha to stick up for herself and continue to feel good about herself and her fashion choices, I certainly didn’t want to create a war.
But luckily my daughter was a bigger person than me, through no guidance of mine.
Apparently after Abby burst into tears, Samantha put her arm around her and apologized. Unprompted, Samantha also promised to let Abby borrow and wear her purple shoes in class. The next day, Samantha proudly wore the purple shoes for the first time in a week, explaining that she and Abby were going to switch shoes. Abby had light-up sneakers that Samantha was excited about wearing.
Unfortunately, Samantha wasn’t able to squeeze her feet into Abby’s sneakers, although Abby clomped around in the purple shoes before Mrs. Marshall intervened, afraid she would trip. While the girls never became BFFs, occasionally I would hear mentions of “Abby this” and “Abby that,” so it appeared the girls had moved on.
Samantha returned to wearing her beloved purple shoes again, until some months later her rapidly expanding feet poked a hole in the toe.
In retrospect, I learned the hard way (attention, Mom PSA) that kids really are sponges
They are always listening and can and do repeat EVERYTHING you say. As a consequence, you always have to be aware of what you’re saying and how you’re saying it. I realized I was guilty of oversharing with Samantha — even treating her as a friend rather than as my daughter. Instead of my emotional knee-jerk criticism of Abby, I should have helped Samantha figure out a constructive way to approach the girl.
In the future, I won’t always be able to suppress my Momma Bear instincts, but will definitely think twice about what I give credence to when little eyes and ears are watching and listening.
