While spending an inordinate amount of time shopping for anything non-Croc that Evan would allow on his feet, we crossed paths with another couple searching for shoes for their toddler. Every time I glanced anywhere near the other mother, I would find myself staring and divert to looking at the ground. Look at the shoes. Glance on another rack and see the other mother. Count the piercings. Wonder why she chose that hair color. Staring again. Look at the ground. Look at other people’s shoes. Glance at sale shoes. Accidentally walk past other mother. Wonder how she could walk in her shoes. She’s bending over and I can see the huge tattoo on her lower back and I’m staring again. Look at the ground. Her husband stepped in my line of sight and I breathed a sigh of relief. Relaxed, I looked around to find Doug and located him just as the other mother’s husband saw him. He whispered in her ear and pointed at Doug, “Will you let me dress like that?” Her pierced lips replied quickly “*#@^ no!”