So, do you ever talk to people and find out something you thought was totally normal wasn’t actually normal at all?
For example, I remember a conversation I had with a friend/co-worker that went something like this:
“Remember how, on Sunday mornings, you used to put on your black patent leather Mary Janes and tap dance on the wood floor outside your parents’ bedroom pretending to be Shirley Temple?”
“Nope, that was just you.”
“Oh.” Long pause. “Really? You never did that? I just assumed everyone did that.”
Well, I had another “just me” moment this weekend.
My sister was visiting from Baltimore. And my oldest son, F., had on a new pair of shoes that were rubbing and causing a blister. So my sister suggested he might need some moleskin. My husband, who is an RN, had never even heard of moleskin! Really? Never heard of moleskin?! What on this green earth did he do when he was growing up and had to break in new back-to-school shoes? How did he survive without moleskin? Poor boy must have been hobbled by his bleeding, blistered feet.
Now try to put yourself in the (new) shoes of a 6 year old boy. Moleskin sounds awesome. And it’s super fun to say!
F. either became obsessed with the idea of moleskin or the word moleskin. (See how much I’m using that word? It is even fun to say silently inside your head while you are typing.) Every five minutes he asked when we could get moleskin. It drove me so crazy that we had to get in the car immediately and go to the store to buy it. And, because it was his special moleskin, he had to go into the store with Mommy by himself to get it. That, of course, led to bribery on my part:
“D. if you stay in the car with Daddy, we will bring you a special surprise”
And yes, the entire family piled in the minivan for this errand. To save a little face, I should mention we also had to pick up last minute school supplies and an electric can opener for Granny.
And so we bought the moleskin (plus chocolate gold coins for D. since he waited in the car). Next time, you are looking for it: it is in the back with the bunion pads, hot water bottles and other geriatric supplies.
So with flimsy package in hand, I tried to manage expectations. I tried to warn F. about what to expect. It’s not that exciting. It’s just sort of a soft, fuzzy band aid after all. But there was no need.
Moleskin is awesome! And you can cut it into strips! And it’s fuzzy! And it’s fun to say! He wears it to bed, and in the bath, and with his flip flops. And he tells people about it–people who look at him (and me) like we just told them we are strapping real live moles to his ankles to help him learn how to roller skate.
But some day when he is all grown up he will remember using moleskin for his new back-to-school shoes. And he will think of me and shake his head in affectionate wonder. And I think that’s pretty awesome.
Even if his wife, his co-workers and all his friends have absolutely no idea what he’s talking about when he says: “Remember when you got brand new shoes and they caused blisters so you and your mom had to take a special trip to the store to buy moleskin?!”
