Simple Pleasures: Worn Out Sneakers

As "late" as Debbie was to the simple pleasures party this week, she wasn't the last. Leave it to me to come in as everyone else is leaving.

Hey, I've never claimed to be punctual.

I do have the excuses of Thursday morning Bible study and having to take breakfast for that as well as snack for my son's first grade class this morning.  Then there's the added pressure of Mrs. Debbie's Miss Whimsy coming over tonight to watch those three rowdy kids, and I would hate for my unkempt house to end up on her blog some day.  I can see it now - "How not to keep your house tidy."  Or something like that.  (I know she wouldn't actually do that.  I just have a wild imagination.)

Honestly, I can't really blame the late-ness on those things.  Truth be told, this is as early as it was going to get for me.

I wasn't sure what I was going to do for my simple pleasure this week, but as I tidied up in preparation for Miss Whimsy coming over tonight, I stumbled across these:

We call them Ben's Play Shoes.  Once upon a time, they were new.  And we would tell him, "Go put on your nice tennis shoes."  Say, for school, or maybe to wear to church on Wednesday night.  But as time progressed, they got a little worn in as he splashed through puddles, tripped on asphalt, used the toes as alternatives to the brakes on his bike, traipsed through that "beloved" Georgia red clay, and apparently refused to tie his shoelaces.

And now - they look like this.  That's right - daylight coming through the toes.  My favorite part is when he decides to wear colorful socks and the red toes peek through.  He just wears these around the neighborhood to ride his bike and play with the other rambunctious little boys whose shoes are in equal disrepair, so I don't have to be embarrassed about it. 

The reason these well-worn worn-out sneakers are my simple pleasure this week is two-fold.  Number one - the represent everything that being a little boy is all about.  They are dirty, ragged, broken-in.  They've run a million miles through who-knows-what and most likely enjoyed every single minute of it.  They even bring home some of the who-knows-what with them.  See...just take a look inside.  There's a little pile of dirt in there.

The second reason these shoes are my simple pleasure goes back to my frugal roots.  They aren't name brand shoes.  When they end up looking like this after a couple of months, what would be the point of spending that kind of money?  But still, he squeezed every penny's worth out of the fifteen dollars we paid for them.  And they fulfilled their purpose - just as they should for a seven year old boy.

The price of a happy childhood couldn't be paid any more appropriately.

So when I feel grumpy about his red toes peeking through, I will remind myself of this fact.  Shoes aren't meant to last forever.  And, Oh the places they'll takes us.

Join me for more Simple Pleasures at Dayle's Simple Pleasures Party today.  (I promise you won't get in trouble if you're later than me!)