There was a Sunday morning routine that took place in my childhood household, before the whole family piled in the car and headed to church. The shining of shoes was central to it. And that was usually followed by all the boys combing our hair with Vitalis. The scent of shoe polish still takes me back. I haven’t smelled Vitalis in a long, long time.
In preparation for our trip to Erin’s sister’s wedding last weekend I was putting a little polish on my shoes before packing them. And of course Finn wanted to be a part of it.
“Oh that’s a good idea! I think I might need to shine my shoes too!” he said, running upstairs to retrieve them from under his bed.
He yelled back down to me, “And I can do it by myself. Ok Daddoo? Ok?”
We had tried shoe shining a couple of times before but he was more interested in putting his fingers in the polish and using the buffing brush as a toy than actually shining his shoes.
“And I can do it ALL BY MYSELF,” he reiterated, returning to my side with his shoes in hand.
“Ok, that’s fine,” I assured him.
I finished my own shoes and stayed close just in case.
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