"I love those shoes....."

I found something today that brought back a memory worth sharing. When Bradley graduated from the 6th Grade, I promised him we would go shoe shopping. The kid loved his shoes more than any woman I know. Seriously, he knew shoes like he knows cars...and he can look at any car from a distance and tell you all kinds of things about it.

I went with him to the mall...which is right then and there a sacrifice. I hate the mall. We went to Footlocker where he found his dream shoes. They were a black pair of Jordans that were really nice. He tried on the first shoe, and it was lovely. Then the store clerk pulled out the second shoe, and it was red. I mentioned that he needed the matching shoe. I was informed that the shoe he pulled out WAS the match. Yep, it was one black shoe, one red shoe with the trademark 2 and 3 one the left and right shoe, respectively.

I recall being a bit aghast that they would actually design mismatching shoes, but I was assured that I was the one out of the loop and that these shoes were the new thing. Bradley loved these shoes. I mean, he really loved the shoes. I had allocated $50.00 for the purchase of new athletic footwear, and this blew the budget by almost 100%. After a slew of promises, I agreed to buy the shoes on one condition; he had to agree to accept a reduced allowance for the rest of the summer. Since I'm in sales, I made him fill out an impromptu contract and sign it for me.

This is what I found today:
This was our written contract (which is missing one key word). I also had the sales guy sign the contract as a witness; that is his name in the upper right hand corner. (And I wonder why my kids all need therapy!) I'm sure I held him to it, and he was a willing participant. He LOVED those shoes.

Several weeks into our contract, he did something wrong...I can't remember any of the details now, but he needed to have a consequence. We tried to think of what would have meaning to him to so that he would feel a bit uncomfortable with the punishment...and so that he wouldn't want to do whatever it was again. He was 12 at the time. We told him that he would have his shoes taken away for a week (or whatever it was). He accepted his punishment and went to his room.

Several minutes later, I heard him sobbing in his room. I mean, full on body shakes, tears, leaned up against the wall with his head buried in the crook of his arm. I went into his room to ask him what was the matter. I thought that maybe his mother had called; that always made him cry because he missed Seattle so much. I remember saying, "Did your mom call?" "What is wrong?"

Through his tears he said in that choppy voice you have when you are all worked up, "I....love....those....shoes....." More crying.

It about broke my freaking heart.

Dean came in to see what was the matter. I told him. Dean looked at me and said, "Well, was this his first offense? Maybe the punishment didn't really fit the crime." Trust me, I'm sure that the punishment did fit the crime, but at this point in time, mercy was kicking in over justice. Right on the spot, we readjusted our punishment and gave him a different consequence with the promise that next time he did whatever it was he had done that he would risk losing his beloved shoes.

I love that story for so many reasons. That kid LOVED those shoes. He wore them until they didn't fit anymore. I love those days when it was easy to figure out what mattered to him and try and motivate him with those things that mattered to him. He's always worn two different color socks; that is his "thing." The two colored shoes just fit naturally. I've told that story plenty of times when I talk about justice vs mercy. As one who is all about the justice and slim on the mercy, it's a nice reminder. I also love that he loved those shoes so much that he spilt tears for them. Carrie Bradshaw would be proud!