Croc Envy

I have two pairs of Crocs and they are not the same size. The reason they are different sizes is not nearly as amusing of a story as the explanation of their current roles in my wardrobe or even my family's awareness of this. But I shall share the reason anyway, as over-explaining things is how I roll.

You know the phenomenon of women's feet growing while they're pregnant? Well I'm here to tell you it really does happen. After my first two pregnancies were over, though, my feet magically shrank back to their original size. But not the third one. My feet did not go back to the size eight they had been for probably 20 years. They are now . . . eight and one-half.

As you may know, Crocs does not believe in half-sizes. They just refuse to admit that people may exist that have feet which are incapable of squeezing into an eight while at the same time swimming in a nine. They have a right to their beliefs. I in turn have a right to not buy their shoes, however I was overpowered by my need for ugly but comfortable footwear.

I decided that too big would be a better idea than too small, so for my first pair of Crocs, I purchased a size nine in a lovely brown color. It eventually became overwhelmingly clear that bigger is not always better, and here is where I will illustrate my point.

I was wearing my size nine Crocs while driving one day and I was backing into a parking spot. An essential detail about this parking spot is that it was situated right in front of a small tree. When you are wearing size nine Crocs on your size eight-and-one-half feet, you would be surprised how the extra bit of shoe past your toes can catch the bottom of the accelerator without you knowing it. Yep, up the curb and into the tree we went. Minimal damage to the vehicle (and the tree), thankfully, although I definitely scared the you-know-what out of the kids.

So I now also have a pair of size eight Crocs in an exquisite black color. Instead of getting rid of the size nines, I just don't wear them for driving. Which brings me to the other humorous facet to this tale.

The other day before we left the house, I absentmindedly put on my size-nine-and-not-safe-for-driving Crocs, but I was not about to get away with that little error. A certain three-year-old who shall remain nameless said, "Um, Mommy? Are those your driving Crocs?" So I was able to change into the other ones and avert disaster. Ironically, she is also the child who didn't give back my size eight feet once she was born.

So I guess the moral of this story is that having children is really mutually beneficial. You take care of them until they're 18, and they will make your feet grow and then remind you to wear the proper shoes while operating motor vehicles - you know, in case you forget.