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School shopping

Yes, it is a little late to talk about this, I know. But it was memorable, so I’ll have to mention it at least once in my dairy. And, before I forget to.

Well, this year Mom decided that Brother and I were old enough to do our own school shopping. She gave us the budget and the list and we were off. She stayed in the same shop, just in case we needed help, but we were on our own. I worked down my list, ticking off each thing as I put it in the trolley. But there was a tough choice. I need an agenda and there are all these beautiful ones for this big price. These really simple normal ones are kind of reasonably priced, but they just don’t call out to me. This one is saying “Pick me! Pick me!” What can I do?

I’ve been eyeing these backpacks for hours (well, minutes that seem like hours) and they’re also calling out to me. I would really really like a new backpack. You see, all the other kids have the latest Eastpac brand backpack that cost a fortune. They say it’s the best. Supposedly they last forever. But my brother got one two years ago and his is already trashed. Not sure what to think from that. Not that my brother is the most careful with his stuff or anything like that.

But I think I’ll go for the agenda. I can get by with my backpack from last year or with another cheaper one, but this agenda is so creative and beautiful. I can use it to doodle and draw when class gets a bit monotonous. Backpacks only have one purpose, but an empty book can be used for so many more things.

Okay, I’ve made my choice and thanks to the budget and the list, I think I’m all set for school now. Thanks to Dad and Mom too, for letting me handle this shopping spree. Now I can include another FIRST to my journal. I might have made a few wrong choices, but I think overall I did okay. And I’ll know for next year what worked and what didn’t.

I’m actually even kind of proud of myself for doing it. I’m glad when I get a little more responsibility. It feels good to do things on my own for a change. I know I can do it with Jesus’ help, even when I feel a little low on confidence.

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Shoes, shoes, more shoes!

When I was 6 years old, Mom asked me to count up my shoes. We had planned to move house and needed to know how big a truck we needed for the move. And so I got going collection my shoes from around my room, around the house, under the couches, in Mom and Dad’s room, in my brother’s room, on the shoe shelf and anywhere else they could have escaped to. 10, 11, 12….15, 20, 21. 21 pairs of shoes!!! Of course that included my slippers, snow boots, rain boots, mountain boots and all that sort of thing. That’s when I realized that one of my pairs of shoes takes up exactly half the size of one of Dad’s. That probably means I can pass with double the amount of his, right? Or I could just tell my Mom I’ve got 10 pairs of shoes instead, counting by size.

Today I have a few less, not because I don’t like them anymore, but just because I’ve outgrown all those 21 pairs plus probably 21 or more so, since that time. I could find little pretty shoes just about at any car boot sale. But trying to find my size now, in the style or color and shape that I want is a whole lot more difficult. At three years old I was happy with whatever was pink. Then at 6, I liked anything black and shiny and that had a little heal. Now… now…. Wake up Dina!!! I like just any shoes that fit me and that I like! Do you get it?

Well, I’m actually a little more picky because I won’t go for just any pink shoes anymore. I want comfortable shoes, and shoes that will match the clothes I wear, shoes that will match and fit the occasion. One of my very favorite things to do with Mom is to go to the shop and check out the rows of shoes. They’re usually the same shoes that we check out every time but somehow I see them differently each time I go. I don’t think I ever have my eyes on the same shoes as the time before. Well, maybe they do change the aisles a bit, especially depending on the season, but the most of the time just don’t have the ones I want in the size I need them to be. Too bad!

Though, in a why it might be a good thing, cause otherwise I’d end up using all my pocket-money for shoes. This lets me be a little more choosy and a whole lot more patient.