What do you do when somebody you love becomes a moron?
Sadly, Rachelle—my most beautiful Petal—has taken to wearing moccasins all the time.
It started innocently enough. She had hurt her foot while kicking somebody at floor hockey practice, and found that shoes were a little constricting after the injury, and that she felt better wearing something looser. We happened to have an old pair moccasins lying around and she took to wearing those. At first, it was just around the apartment, but in due course she began wearing them out for little errands, and now she wears them all time.
It’s embarrassing.
The other day, while we were dining out in the Distillery District, Rachelle looked at me from across the table. Wearing her moccasins, and with one braid in her hair, she made a toast,
“May the Warm Winds of Heaven
Blow softly upon your house.
May the Great Spirit
Bless all who enter there.
May your Mocassins
Make happy tracks
in many snows,
and may the Rainbow
Always touch your shoulder.”
Normally, she’d say, “Cheers, big ears!”
So far, she’s made 16 dream catchers, which now hang from all of our light fixtures, a totem pole for the back yard ( a Dacschund as the primary “spirit-guide”), and has taken to leaving those little piles of rocks outside of every new place we visit.
I don’t know, I suppose it’s a phase she’s passing through, just like after she saw Fargo and Lord of the Rings, but still, any advice would be greatly appreciated. I mean, I’m sick of having to call her “Walks with Wonder, Shoots with Force.”