Beach ball arms and baby steps
We began to wonder about halfway through the class if perhaps the two sisters had arrived at the class with no parents at all. They were not twins, but they were wearing matching dresses and polka dot tights, and each had a thin braided nylon eyeglass cord strapped to her thick glasses, which made their already large eyes look as if they were drawn by Disney animators. We wondered about their parents because of the number of times the older sister, trailed directly on her heels by the younger one, came over to ask us to tie the superfluous laces on her ballet slippers.
I offered to help after watching them spend a considerable amount of time fiddling with their laces while sitting on the floor near where we were sitting. I fell in love with these two imps, each with nap-matted pigtails, looking up at my husband and me through their askew glasses. I was ready to hand over my wallet and keys, so shoe tying seemed within the practical realm of assistance.
But they had us after that, no going back, tagged like the kind lady who feeds pigeons in the park. We tied laces three or four times, then spent additional time reasoning with them that the laces looked great and there was no need to untie them again only for us to retie them. Michael wondered aloud when making dinner later that evening if perhaps — referencing their prescription frames — they might have mistaken us…
