Since Lael was born I have been clothing her.
I buy her clothes. Buy her shoes. Buy her underwear. Do her hair.
I have taken that on as my responsibility.
It's not that hubby wouldn't know how to dress her. It's just that if I let him dress her, she'd look like a little boy with sweatpants and tennis shoes on with her hair in a baseball cap.
And no. I'm not exaggerating.
So when D was here during Easter she came with busted tennis shoes. I was a little pissed because since we send $500 a month I expect her to have at least a decent pair of shoes and not the Faded Glory (Wal-Mart) brand that she had. Not that there is anything against Wal-Mart shoes but at least buy a new pair when the old ones start to fall apart.
So Hubby decided that he was going to take her and Lael and get them both shoes because there is no way to get one shoes without the other.
So I get home that day and she is excited to show me her shoes. I am shocked.
The shoe on the left are her Skechers (sz 11) that she wears. She has a little growing room but they are a good fit.
Now the shoes on the left are the Nikes (sz 13!!) that Hubby thought were ok for him to buy her.
What the fuck!?
He says they they ran a little small. Seriously. That don't run that small.
I'm not into my child looking like she is walking in clown shoes.
So yesterday we got into a heated discussion because he must have told her she could wear the shoes after I had already explained to her that they were a little too big.
I debated about this all night and even involved my Twitter friends. I then decided to hide the shoes on her closet shelf.
Because you know what.
He can suck a fat one. I've been running this shit for 6 1/2 years now and it's a little late for him to try to step in.
That's why I'm the mom. And he better not forget it.
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