Page 154 of Every Time My Heart Breaks

“Alright, little man,” I said, fastening the Velcro strap on my son’s first pair of shoes.

We’d gotten them for him to wear when he’d started to walk a couple of months back, but he would only cry every time we put them on him, and he usually only tried to getoutof them, not stand in them.

But in about an hour, a couple dozen guests were set to arrive for his first birthday party, and I was determined to get him used to them. Today.

“This is going to be just like walking without shoes…but with.”

Yeah, yeah, shut up. I know I wasn’t a goddamn inspirational speech giver.

But I wasn’t the type to give up either.

From the counter where I had Brooks sitting, he gummed at a toy and blabbered, “Mama, mama, mama…”

“Actually, it’s Dad,” I corrected him. “But we’ll work on that later. One thing at a time, right?”

“Mama, mama, mama,” Brooks agreed cheerfully.

“Right.” I picked him up, his diaper rustling against my arm where I perched him as I lowered him to the floor. “So here we go. Nice and easy. No need to panic, okay? We’re just going to stand. You can stand with no worries. Right?”

I settled him gently on the floor, and his brow furrowed as if he noticed the difference, but he was too content to chew on his toy to get upset just yet. He didn’t attempt to walk, however, and then he bent his knees as if to sit, but I pointed in warning.

“No, no, no. Just give it a chance. Keep standing.”

And as if he understood me, Brooks straightened again, standing upright in his shoes without screaming bloody murder.

After five seconds of him standing there without moving or sitting or crying, I felt as if I’d just discovered the cure for cancer.

“Holy shit. You’re doing it.” I was so fucking proud of my kid for facing his fear I could’ve burst.

“Chloe!” I shouted through the house, unable to take my eyes off my perfect little boy. “Come quick!Hurry!”

A second later, I heard her racing down the hall until she exploded into the room, panting breathlessly. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” I cheered. “Justlook.”

When I motioned toward Brooks, she spread her arms cluelessly and blinked down at him as he stood there looking right back up at her.

“What am I looking at?” she finally asked.

“Shoes!” I practically shouted, jabbing my hand toward them.

“Oh!” she gasped in surprise, finally catching on. “Oh my God! You got him to stand in his shoes. Way to go, Brooksie!” She cheered, crouching down to his height and opening her arms wide. “Mama’s so proud of you. Yes…”

Our son grinned big at her, slobber dripping from his gums.

“Mama,” he cooed, waving his arm excitedly and making the toy in his hand rattle like crazy. “Mama, mama…”

Tempted by the sweet lure of his mother’s arms, he took his first wobbling step in his shoes and started toward her.

“There he goes,” I encouraged. “He’s walking in them. You actually got him to walk in them!”

She looked at me and smiled.

Meanwhile, from the front of the house, a familiar voice called, “Hello? Knock-knock.”

“Hey. Come on in,” I called in greeting. “We’re back here.”

“Okay.” As footsteps approached, the woman started talking. “I cannot wait until you guys see this cake. I think it is seriously my best work yet.” And then she appeared in the doorway. “So what do you think? Don’t lie.”

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