One of the things that is both most amazing and most maddening about Middle is that when he fixates on something, he never lets go. He is like a pit bull, or at least what I think pit bulls are supposed to be like, since people describe this sort of I’m-not-letting-go-till-I-get-my-way as acting “like a pit bull.” (Which makes me wonder: Why does no one ever say about their family members/friends/colleagues, “He’s such a Labrador retriever.” Should I be insulted on behalf of my beloved Uki? Who is, after all, perfect?)

But I digress. Middle’s latest pit-bull obsession, apparently inspired by his 8th-grade math teacher, are these shoes:

Really, they make me want to cry. Our babysitter calls them “gorilla feet.” I call them “the footwear look that you are really going to regret ever being photographed in.” I mean, can you imagine uglier shoes? I realize some people run in these, or something. Actually, I don’t know what people do in these but look down and laugh at their feet. And don’t they really start to smell if you are, say, a 13-year-old boy who really should be wearing socks, if you know what I mean? (Moms of boys: I hope you’re with me on this.)

Anyway, Middle was relentless in his pit-bull determination to buy these things. And so, despite my aesthetic objections, I relented. My only requirement: that he buy them with his own allowance money. Which he did. But will he regret it? And if he does, will I be able to hold my tongue?