Yep, you guessed it: That was me as a wee child. You can see it in the eyes. Actually, I'm still about the same height, and sadly have the same hat size, just my feet got bigger, and my hair turned darker. (And gray. Wah wah wah...) But seriously, I haven't been able to wear Mary Janes since. (Phew!)
In my last post I talked about my father bonding with me over shoe polishing. It's strange to think about in retrospect because he never taught my brother those kinds of skills. When my brother was younger, they built a soap box derby car from scratch together, which was excited to witness. And when my brother was in high school they got into cycling together.
But as I was growing up my father took a different course of action with me. He decided to teach me skills like shining my own shoes, how to change the oil in my car, and how to change my car's sparkplugs. (None of which I have used since, but – it was a nice gesture. And also none of which my dad ever uses, as he's not a grease monkey. He was a Junior Vice President at Aetna Insurance, in charge of main frame computer data storage mechanisms. Ya, not a grease monkey...)
It's a little funny to think about a dad being excited to share this with his little girl, and not his son. Strange. Maybe he already had an inkling about my fate.
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