A couple of years ago, on Easter, my daughter-in-law Michele and the grandkids bought me a pair of mud boots. Not just any mud boots. These are a riotous, swirling, Easter Egg-patterned pair of mud boots.
The kids thought I needed the boots because I was always complimenting them on their cool mud boots. I was always threatening to steal their fun and funky footwear. They knew I couldn’t fit their boots, so they weren’t too worried. But they knew I was jealous of their waterproof footwear.
Growing up, the only remotely interesting pair of waterproof boots I ever owned was a pair of white boots. They were glorified galoshes, rising just above the ankle. To make them fit, I had to pull the stretchy loop on one side of the boot to a hook on the other side. They still didn’t fit well and they kind of flopped when I walked.
I thought they were pretty cool. Until I wore them in the mud a few times and my nice white boots became off-white, then tan, then brown. There was no way to get them clean.
Not so with modern kid’s boots. They are made of bright and shiny non-stick rubber. And they come in amazing options. There are bumblebees and ladybugs and frogs. There are puppies and kittens. There are junior firefighter boots. There are boots with Lightning McQueen and Disney princesses on them. And there are simple rubber boots in a rainbow of color options.
I bemoaned the fact that they didn’t make such cool boots in grownup sizes. So, when Michele and the kids were shopping and found a pair of psychedelic pastel boots in my size, they bought them for me. I love them.
Something happens when I pull them on. I feel an overwhelming urge to plunge into a puddle and squish around. I want to make dirt dams on the little rivers in our ditch or create canals to drain water holes in the driveway. Wearing them makes me feel like a kid.
But I don’t wear them very often. I am not a kid. I am a nearly 55-year-old woman. I feel a bit self-conscious wearing wild and crazy footwear.
However, it is mud season. And although it is a fairly dry spring, our yard and driveway are a sloppy mess. So, a few days ago when I had to run to town to pick something up, I slipped on my pretty boots to traverse my muddy driveway. And I ran errands in my colorful boots.
Surprisingly, no one pointed or laughed. I didn’t hear any comments about the crazy old lady in the kiddie boots. In fact, I had a number of people compliment me on them. A few people even asked where they could get a pair!
So I’m feeling a little less self-conscious about my pretty boots. In fact, if we get the rain expected this week, I may pull on my pink and yellow and blue and green boots and go splashing in some puddles.
Summer is delicious, rain is
refreshing, wind braces up,
snow is exhilarating; there is
no such thing as bad weather,
only different kinds of good
weather.
John Ruskin
Leave a Reply