Imelda

She discovered the joy of wearing shoes only a few weeks ago - before that she had gone quite barefoot. I slid her feet into a pair of polka-dotted Mary Jane sneakers and she has been following me around the house, hollering and waving all manner of footwear - gilt sandals, pink ballet flats, purple crocks - ever since. She doesn't care what style they are, or whether they fit, so long as she has them fastened securely round her pudgy little feet. She fishes them out of closets, finds them hidden under the couch, in daddy's gym bag. Even at night-time, after she's been changed and made ready for bed, she toddles to the shoe basket and digs out a mismatched pair of shoes.

But it all changed this afternoon when, on our way to the pool, she happened upon Audrey's "dorothy" slippers. Suddenly, she had acquired a new set of standards and, sitting herself down squarely in front of me, she hooted until I helped her try them on... I sighed, but told her I quite understood. How can one expect a girl to be satisfied with plain old sandals when once she has been exposed to sequins?