It all started with those high heeled shoes. Trinity wanted high heels in the worst way. It was all she talked about. When she wasn’t talking about them she was pretending to wear high heels or asking to wear mine. I remember when I was about her age and we got a bag of hand-me-down clothes. They were probably from one of my parents’ students, but in that bag was a pair of kid’s wedge heel sandals. In retrospect they were ratty old things…but to me they were the sort of fancy, glamorous things that big girls wore. You couldn’t convince me they were anything but sheer “grown-up-ness” in the form of a shoe.  I would pretend I was a teenager which, as EVERYONE (who is a six year old girl) knows, is the height of sophistication.

So as I listened to Trinity tell me for the umpteenth time “Mom, these shoes I’m wearing are high heels, okay?” I understood how her little heart felt about wanting high heels. Then I realized; Is it really any different for “real” grown up girls? I will admit I was so excited about a certain pair of red heels I got last year that Andy made me hair clips with white flowers and red ribbons to wear in my hair for a date night just so I could match those shoes. Made them with his own two hands just to surprise me! I decided it was time to take Trin shopping for her first pair of heels. Nothing too big. They would still be appropriate for a little girl, but remembering those wedge sandals, I knew exactly how they would make her feel. What I was not prepared for was how big a leap she would take in growing up from the moment we brought those shoes home. That afternoon she lost her first tooth. Then the next day she came running inside saying “Mom! I have something to show you!” As she raced up the stairs I saw a big scrape up the side of her leg. “Look what I did!” she declared, almost proudly. I did a double take…MY Trinity, the one who cries at the mere sight of a scratch let alone blood, was not crying at this massive scrape? I decided I should roll with it and play it cool. “Wow! That’s a great one kiddo! Should we get it cleaned up?” “Yes!” she quickly responded. No tears. We cleaned it up. Still no tears. It is usually a battle to come within 5 feet of her when she is injured. The girl could win Oscars for the drama that is involved in cleaning up scrapes of any kind. Not today. Back outside she went to continue playing.

The next morning as we got ready for church she asked “I have black high heels now, just like you mommy! Are you going to wear your black high heeled shoes too?” We lined them up together: “Your heels are bigger than mine,” she observed. “Are they going to be louder than mine?” We donned our shoes to find out and she was quite pleased to learn that her shoes were every bit as loud and ‘click-clackety’ as mine. The ‘click-clack’ factor is very important, you see. 

Can you tell us apart?

It would seem that these harmless looking shoes have launched my daughter into a whole new phase of life. One in which she is MUCH more grown up. I know she was referring to how tall she was, but when she asked me “Mommy, do I look bigger?” I think I teared up a little before answering “Yes you do, my love!”