Who's afraid of the little old lady who lived in a shoe?

Elaine, probably. She's shown remarkably few hangups in the past. The bath is the only exception, where she screams terribly when her head is being washed or rinsed. I did the same thing as a baby. The terrible thing is that I remember thinking that my mom was going to drown me in the tub...not on purpose, of course, but completely accidentally. It's one of those times when you feel like matters are totally out of your hands, I guess, which is really scary. I hope Elaine doesn't think that about me, though.

The shoes thing started up recently. We had bought her these Robeez knockoffs at Target a few months ago, and she's worn them all summer. Then we got a bunch of clothes from a local friend, and there were some shoes in there. She was obsessed with this pair of white sandals that were too small for her. She still insists on being put into them occasionally. Then there were the Pooh shoes and a pair of blue sneakers with laces. These have both been favorites. The problem is that the blue shoes are the only ones left that really fit her.

Our troubles began with the galoshes. You may have heard that it rains here, and we thought that a pair of galoshes would be a prudent addition to Elaine's wardrobe. Jill found a pair at Nordstrom's, and we presented them to Elaine, confident that she would be instantly transformed into a hooting bundle of galoshes-possessing toddler joy. Instead--Tragedy! Horror! Betrayal! She wouldn't even touch them, and backed away from them like they were a nest of snakes. I basically forced them onto her feet, and she took two steps and just stood screaming at her feet until I pulled them off. After calming her down (no easy task) she decided to join me on the couch. Upon pulling herself up and rolling over, she found herself inches from the dreaded boots and did the same nest-of-snakes hasty retreat, accompanied by another screaming fit.

Jill took them back and exchanged them for another color. We left them in the middle of the basement room without any fanfare or acknowledgement, hoping to just acclimate her to their presence. She will tolerate their presence, but if you pick one up and show it to her, you still get a strong reaction. We found that this newly acquired phobia extends beyond galoshes, however. Today, I pulled out a new set of Fauxbeez (what we call the Target brand Robeez). We had previously purchased the next larger size in different colors, and I figured that those that she'd been wearing were getting a bit tight on her. She freaked. Now, I had put these shoes on her feet before, when they were much too big for her. There was no reaction then, so this is something new. I made her wear them today, and she quickly forgot about them.

Part of our trip out was to go to Target, and Jill wanted to get some larger sneakers for her. Going down the aisle that was full of new shoes was pretty traumatic for her. There was shrieking and hyperventilating. I could picture images of Dora the Explorer pink and white sneakers swirling threateningly around her head as Hannah Montana strappy sandals (with the pink glitter) bared their teeth at her and growled. I left her in the cart and walked about 20 feet away. I reached over and picked up an perfectly nice white slipper and showed it to her. Same reaction. I told Jill to just pick something out without us, and pushed the cart to the next section. It was like turning off a faucet. She was totally fine.

Humans are weird.