Tomorrow morning when I suggest you wear your nice, insulated, knee-high, be-spiked, non-slip, purpose-made snow boots to walk down a one kilometre, 10% gradient hill at 6:45 am when a good part of the road is iced over I do hope you will remember what happened this morning when you insisted you absolutely could not wear said boots due to the utterly mortifying necessity of leaving them lined up in the entrance to the school (with all the other similar practical boots) rather than tucked modestly in your shoe cubby hole due to their size.
Remember what you ask? Remember that you didn't make it 200m down the road before going down hard and heavy and ending up wet from hip to heal, whimpering about the cold- not to mention the bone jolting thud of Meg on icy bitumen.
And if you remember all that I'm sure that you'll remember that your less than sympathetic mummy wiped you down and marched you home to change boots and then waved you off again more appropriately shod anyway so really it was a double trauma- the slip and then the mortifying boot line-up anyway.
That's all honey,