From the Mouths of Babes

I flew into San Diego on Monday night and was actually pretty lucky because the flight was only about two-thirds full, so I had all three seats in my section to myself. Score! That really helped make up for the hour we spent on the tarmac at JFK before take-off ("Ladies and gentlemen, there are 30 other aircraft in line ahead of us to take off.") and the loooooong cross-country east-to-west flight. (Honestly, traveling from east to west feels like you are never going to get there.)

I straggled into the hotel at about 1:30 am ET, dragging my bags and my proverbial you-know-what. I got into the elevator with a woman who had a small, tow-headed boy by the hand. He was happily chatting away about everything and nothing at the same time when I heard the word "shoes", but thought he was referring to his own fun little printed canvas runners. But then, he took a deliberate step forward, turned his sunny, open face up to me and with more enthusiasm than I'd heard in a long time, said "You have cool shoes!" (which sounded more like "shooooooz", all wrapped up in the adorable timbre of a nearly three-year old.)

I burst out laughing and we spent the remainder of the elevator ride comparing our cool shoes.

I think I was probably sharing the elevator with a future Stuart Weitzman.