Crocs and Socks, Ella Style

I ran 11.5 miles today.  I wouldn't say it was by choice -- it's a necessary evil to running a half marathon.  Sign up for one, gotta train for it.  Look for a blog post on that topic -- the actual race -- in a couple of weeks.

Anyway, I had maybe taken 11 steps into the house after I finished running when I was bombarded with questions.

"Mommy, can I have a treat?"

"Mommy, can I watch an episode?"

"Mommy, can we go for a walk?"

I was able to fend off the first two with an "I just walked in the door... I just walked in the door... NO."  It was that last one that got me.  I had promised Ella a walk last weekend and failed to deliver; so we ended that week with me apologizing and telling her that I now owe her two walks to be used whenever she wanted (with some judgment).

I was hurting but not more than I knew than I would be later, so I told Ella to get her shoes on and that we'd go now.  The words had barely left my mouth when I saw she had her new, sparkly shoes on (no socks, of course -- at this point, I didn't care).

My shoes and socks were feeling pretty uncomfortable on my feet at this point, so I asked Ella to go upstairs and get me my Crocs and a pair of socks for our walk.  For whatever reason, there was no discussion about where she'd find my Crocs -- I was certain they were beside my bed and that she couldn't miss them.  I tried a similar tactic with a pair of socks.

"My socks are in the top, left drawer of my dresser," I started.  Ella kind of knows right from left, at least when I instruct her to turn.  I clarified, "it's the top drawer closest to the window."  Yeah, that should do it.

"So Daddy's dresser is..." she started, and I cut her off with, "Daddy's dresser is the tall one; mine is the short one.  Just grab a pair of socks from the top drawer closest to the window."  I didn't care which pair -- in this drawer, they are all athletic socks.

Crocs and black socks in action

Off she went.  She returned a couple of minutes later with my Crocs and, yes, a pair of socks from the middle drawer, not closest to the window.  "Here, Mommy," she said, handing me my Crocs and a black, argyle pair of dress socks.  Then she added, "I didn't grab the fluffy ones, just these."  She was so proud of herself, certain she had delivered per my request.

"Thank you, Ellie," I told her and put them on my feet.  I looked like my dad, maybe worse.  A real fashion conspiracy when combined with my teal running shorts.  It would be a short walk around the neighborhood, so wearing this get-up was a small price to pay for an altogether happy Ella.