Tears streamed down the little angel's face this morning when I told her I thought I'd made a bad parenting decision yesterday by letting her wear the damn flats.

This was followed by the time-tested retort of BUT EVERYONE ELSE DOES!

I sat there, trying to seem impervious to her grief. I thought about the trials she has gone through these past fifteen days -- those trials of which I have not written but I'm sure many school-ager parents can guess but let's not discuss lest it come back to haunt my little second-grader -- the indignities she has suffered at the hands of her mother without as much complaint as I would've thought.

I thought about battles and which ones to pick.

I thought about how strongly I feel that she not dress provocatively and that flats do not offend my sensibilities at all, but the size 12.5 two-inch wedge sandals do.

I hemmed and I hawed as she sniffled and refused a hug.

Here's the thing I forgot to mention yesterday: She and I both have flat feet. I doggedly wore flats all throughout the eighties even though they made the soles of my feet cry out in pain. I let her wear flip flops on shortish trips this summer, but she wore sneaks and socks every day to summer camp, every time we went to the zoo, etc., no matter how hot it was. I don't know the science on flat feet and arch supports, but I know comfort.

And her feet are still growing.

Hem and haw.

Sniffle and whine.

I made her wear boots to school on an 80-degree day because she said they were the only thing that went with her sparkly leggings. 

IS THIS IMPORTANT?

So I cut her a deal: I would buy her insertable arch supports for the flats. Which I did, today. They don't have child-sized ones at CVS, but I'm hoping her feet are close enough to small adult size to make it work. I suppose we shall find out tonight. I told her if I could get arch supports that worked into her silly flats she could wear them on days she doesn't have PE.

When she was two, I let her wear twirly dresses every day to daycare as long as they had shorts under them. 

When she's fifteen, I may have to deal with bad nineties fashion come back to haunt us. 

I've decided to fight the biggest fashion battle for me: DRESS YOUR AGE. Dress like a little girl. While flats don't scream "seven years old" to me, I don't fundamentally object to them on that basis.

So I'm going to stick the arch supports in there and let it ride.