Pink Rubber Boots...

She wears pink rubber boots...in the mud...on the farm...through puddles and snow banks...She wears pink rubber boots because, let's be honest, when you're a four year old girl, they're kind of the height of fashion.

She wears pink rubber boots, and makes them look good, and of course, we dress her, but she's even taken to dressing herself on occasion and her efforts land remarkably close to those of her parents.  She's got style, for a four year old, that is.  I always wanted a girl with style.

Who'd have ever thought that so much affection, no, infatuation, could stem from pink rubber boots?  I guess I did.  I wanted a girl so badly, so I suppose I could have seen it coming, but I never anticipated the accessories. Wait, do boots count as accessories?  No, of course not, they're boots.  See what a Dad learns when he's got daughters to dote over.  I speak in accessories now, and that nonsense makes me smile.

Pink boots and ponytails...buns, braids, berets, hair bands, leave-in conditioner and tangle free brushes...socks that she has to pick out, of course.  Sparkly things and tutus...all sorts of tights, and those pink rubber boots.

Oh those pink rubber boots. What they do to me is nauseatingly sweet...embarrassing almost.  And I take too many photos, and I can write entire glowing blog posts about pinking f@#$ing footwear, but it's not really about the boots though, is it?  No, it's about the girl.