Desmond hates shoes

Here's the scene: you (a woman in your mid-to-late 20s) are walking into your local Target store at 2pm in the afternoon.  You woke up an hour ago, but couldn't move off your bed because of the pounding headache (hangover) you had and currently have.  You're slowly walking around Target looking for the heavy OTC drugs section whilst thinking about how you should not have had that last amaretto sour at the bar last night and how this will be the last time, swear on your mother, that you will ever drink this much.  In your quest for the excedrin, you inadvertently pass the baby clothes aisle.  You walk by without even giving its contents a glance but something catches your eye.  Hanging on the display wall is what looks to be like a pink pair of ballerina slippers that could fit in the palm of your already small hand.  You slow down, stop, and walk the three steps backwards until you're face to face with the shoes.  You take off your sunglasses and shakily reach out your hand.  The shoes fit perfectly in your palms and you couldn't imagine that babies can have such ridiculously small feet.  For the space of a few seconds, your body releases a slew of hormones, which make you smile at the thought of putting them on your very own future baby daughter while your rational mind reels at the thought of ever having a child and your uterus sighs in longing.  You slowly put them back and start walking away.  By the time you're in the pharmaceuticals aisle, you're back to cursing your hangover and making empty promises about never drinking again, the thought of baby feet clad in miniature pink ballet slippers already dissipating from your memory.

True story, by the way.

Desmond's first pair of shoes were not really shoes, but booties.  We bought them on our trip to Vilnius, in Lithuania (read post HERE) in this little baby store that we happened upon during our walking tour of the city.  The booties were adorable: brown and cream and knit by hand.  It was our first baby purchase and was the first purchase that truly made start being excited about the arrival of Desmond.

Baby Desmond with his Lithuanian booties on. 

However, while I have had a major love affair with baby shoes ("Oh my God, Billy...baby Air Jordans!"), Desmond has not.  He HATES, DETESTS, ABHORS wearing shoes.  One time, this couple that we're friends with (Hi, Lauren and Jack!) put doggy shoes on their dog.  It walked around like it was stepping over high prickly sticks.  It didn't know what to do with itself and teetered and waddled around bewildered.  Truthfully, probably the funniest thing I've ever seen, but also kind of sad for the dog.  Anyhow, the walk is exactly how Desmond walks when you put regular shoes on him.  Now, it didn't used to be an issue before he started walking: he would wear socks a lot and those leather shoes that had elastic on them that would stretch to fit his feet (mostly used to keep the socks on).  As soon as he started crawling, I bought him his first pair of real-soled shoes: a pair of boat shoes.  And they were plaid boat shoes.  With a thick sole.  I put them on Desmond, coordinating his outfit perfectly (khaki shorts, matching plaid shirt, combed and parted hair...) and sent him on his merry way.  He started crawling away and did so looking like those poor animals (like the rabbits or dogs) who are paralyzed from the waist down and walk around on their front legs dragging their back legs around.  Once he realized that they hindered his mobility, he sat down and started trying to take them off.  Which led to him crying.  Which led to me taking them off and putting them away for when he walked.

Similar to the ones I got Des.  By the way, since I hate paying full price for baby stuff, I got them for like 2 bucks at kid-to-kid.  Paying full price for baby stuff elicits the same response from me as when I accidentally milk that's about to expire: Dang it!  I should've known better.

So, when he started walking, I put them back on.  We went downstairs to try them out and he just stood there with this sad look on his face and wouldn't move.  I told him that no child of mine was going to be walking around the grocery store bare- and dirty-footed, thereby inviting the judgmental glances of every mother within seeing distance.  He started pouting and then decided to walk back towards me, arms outstretched, mouth starting to form the big, wide rectangle before a whiney yell.  Before any sound could come out, he literally tripped over his own feet.  And then he lost it.  He started screaming and kicking his feet around as if they were being dunked into boiling water.  I panicked and took them off and have been too terrified of putting them back on.

I drove over to Target and ended up getting him another pair of the leather shoes.

These are similar to the ones I got him.  However, these are vegan shoes, meaning, they aren't made with leather.  You can find them at Isabooties.

Has this happened to anyone's kids before?  Do they finally accept their lot in life and wear regular shoes?  Desmond's grandma Donna told me that Billy used to hate wearing shoes and would scrunch up his toes so she couldn't put them on him, but now he has a love affair with shoes (seriously.  Has more shoes than I do).  Am I doomed to either have a kid who runs around in dirty, bare feet or one who ends up spending gobs of his money on shoes?