Forty pounds, Forty four inches

Went to Target to get kid shoes. The aisles looked like several mother Tyrranosauraus rex had gone through, scooping all the good meat off the bone. I picked up two sets of shoes in the right size.

In the clothing section, I noticed there were no clothes marked 6T. Lump in the throat. I thought about my friends with babies. Enjoy it. It flies by, I thought. We are as close to age ten as to newborn, and we might be graduating from the little kids section to the boys clothing section.

I walked through the rest of the store, ogling brightly patterned carpets, bins, and food. The lump in my throat came and went.

From there, I went to Kohl's in search of back up shoes, in case my other selections were duds. 

I passed the kids clothes section. Like most stores, a fair amount of color for boys, at least in the tops...Culture (god) forbid a boy want color below the waist. A grandmother chastised her grandson for standing in his stroller. A boy begged her mother to allow him to help push his younger sibling in the carriage. I moved through quickly.

Another mother stood in front of the shoe section with her sons. "No size 12 of anything. I think we are a little late," she says to her son. "Uh oh, that's what I'm looking for," I say. I think I purchased the last 12s left at Target. I back away and hear her son say in a helpful tone, "I could wear these."

I head back home with a bunch of goods from Target. Some for Beren...a bottle of black paint, shoes, beads, kid scissors to replace our missing ones, and a basket for his stuffed animals. Some for Jared and me...a door mat, a basket to replace the basket I am going to take from him later to replace my broken beyond use laundry basket, and a string of lights. 

A fairly pricey trip by my standards, but I'm giving the lump in my throat a little retail therapy. Uh oh, it is back. Definitely seem allergic to how fast that kid is growing.