Published Messenger Newspapers, Adelaide, February 26, 2003


KIDS HAVE WORLD AT THEIR FEET


DRYING myself off after a swim at Henley Beach South, a little blonde bombshell, perhaps three years old, wandered across from her dad and stood right on top of my sand castle. Actually, the sand castle was already there when I arrived on the beach but I saw it first and my towel was lying next to it. The problem with kids is they know nothing about possession being nine-tenths of the law and they treat sand castles, in particular, as a sort of terra nullius. At first I thought she was a boy and started quietly singing, "I'm the King of the Castle and you're a dirty rascal...'', making it abundantly clear who was the rascal. She ignored me, head down watching herself stamp on the sand castle. Then I noticed she was wearing fluorescent pink sandals and changed my tune to "I'm the Queen of the Castle...'' Still she ignored me. Giving up, I said: "They're rather nice sandals.'' "Yes, they're my new ones,'' she said, suddenly taking an interest in me but still keeping her head down. She raised one sandal in front, the better for me to admire it. Toddlers are always on for a chat about their shoes. Perhaps, having spent so much of their lives barefoot by that stage, they find footwear a novelty. Perhaps they never realised they had feet until their first shoes. I could make some caustic asides here about how early the female shoe fetish shows up in the species but a friend told me her two year old nephew - yes, a male - found his footwear irresistible too. Fair enough but all I can say is most boys grow out of it and most girls never do. The same friend mentioned she had recently visited an elderly aunt in a nursing home and a woman in the bed alongside kept trying to remove her slippers, which had been firmly attached with Velcro straps. The woman had worked away furiously at them, muttering "get them off ... get them off'' but none of the nursing staff took any notice. My friend, who has many shoes of her own in the cupboard, said the woman may well have been disturbed but the slippers were very unattractive. When it comes to my own shoes, just once did I buy smart lace-ups. Being able to tie your own shoes ranks close to potty training in life's list of personal milestones. Even so, it was a mistake. The lace-ups seemed to fit OK in the shop but they hurt like hell later on, and remained in the box for a year or so until I gave them virtually unworn to St Vincent de Paul. Look for the derelict in the $250 shoes. I have since stuck to cheap moccasin style slip-ons costing no more than $90 on special, and my feet have suffered badly as a consequence. Anyway, Pink Sandals' dad finally came to take her off the ruins of my sand castle and, likely as not, we shall never meet again. A pity because in the New Year sales I bought another cheap pair of slip-ons and I know she would be interested in them.