New Kickers

The kiddo has been sporting a new pair of treads since the winter holidays. They are quite pretty, pull on poo-kickers with pink leather uppers. The kiddo is not really into pink but her daddio jumps on any opportunity to get her to wear the girly color. Truth be told I buy her pink things too, just to get her to make the, "awh MOM" face. She needed new boots as she's growing, despite my protests. She's been wearing them everywhere since the big guy dropped them off under the tree. She's also been displaying her general distaste for my older boots with sarcasm, an inherited genetic defect. She is quick to point out that the soles on my boots are wearing out, and I've only had them since August. I can't get her to remember to close the lid on the toilet but she can remember when I purchased new boots. She also repeatedly tells me that they smell like poo and that I should really buff them up. Although she balks at pink, she has no problem comparing my rust colored uppers to the color of TinkerBell's (cow) hind end. She goes on to tell me that I should have shopped around when purchasing my boots as the Justin brand is really a better boot than Ariat, in her humble opinion. So...This morning as she was sliding them on, we were headed out to check on the pregnant goat, I notice that she has the same Ariat stamp on the soles of her boots as I do on mine. I slip on my boots, and make a remark about how they are cold. The kiddo says, "Well you should have bought Justins, mine are toasty." I'm trying not to point out that we have the same brand of boot, I want her to open her mouth a few more times. Down at the barn, I complain that my feet hurt, that my boots are rubbing on my calf and I pretend to trip over the toes several times. Each made up complaint I air is met with a reason why I should be wearing a different brand. Upon returning to the house, she sits down just inside the door and slips off her "better brand" of boots. I pick up the first one as it hits the floor. I look, with puzzlement on my face at the sole of her boot. I flip my foot up so that I can look at the sole of mine, then again look back at hers. I drop her boot to the floor, and mutter a, "huh." The kiddo looks at me, and looks at her boot. She looks at me again, and says, "What?" I pick up her boot and ask her to read what it says on the bottom. She takes it, looks at it and says, "A rat." A rat? I ask why a boot would have, "a rat" stamped on the bottom. She shrugs and says, "I don't know, maybe they are made from rat skins." "That's a lot rats to skin", I say. "Well, they are nice boots", She pipes in. I break it to the kiddo that the bottom of her boots does not say, "a rat" but rather Ariat, a brand just like the brand of my boots. She looks at me with that look that says, "I know you brought me into this world but right now I'm really, really, really upset that your smarter about this one single point and I would really, really, really like to just kick you in the shins and go to my room and watch t.v. like this never happened." She says instead, "Nuhuh, I got a Justin ball cap with these boots, they aren't Ariats. I point out several other clear markers and she concedes that I am right and that she has just been bashing the brand of boots that she herself has been wearing. I'm mentally preparing to do the victory dance with some verbal, "woot-woots" but my thoughts are cut short when the kiddo says, "Oh well, they are still better than yours." "I have smooth soles so I don't get poop stuck in them and then I don't smell nasty all day." She gives me a smirk, shucks the other boot and leaves them both in a pile in front of the door. She hurries down the stairs and I hear her talking with her dog. UGH!