Ethan, an energetic 8-year-old boy with tousled brown hair, kicks his legs under the table, the soles of his sneakers barely hanging on. Mom pours orange juice while glancing at the frayed shoes. Dad folds the newspaper, his brow furrowed with concern.
"Ethan, have you noticed your shoes are getting pretty worn out? I think you’ll need a new pair soon,"
"They’re fine, Mom. I can still run fast in them!"
Ethan drags his feet up the porch steps, the shoes making a slapping noise. Dad meets him at the door, picking up one shoe and turning it over to reveal the gaping sole. "Buddy, these shoes might hurt your feet. It’s time we get you a new pair,"
"But Dad, I like these! They’re my lucky shoes," Ethan protests, clutching them tightly.
Mom sits beside Ethan, her voice soft and reassuring. "Ethan, I know it’s hard to say goodbye to something you love, but your feet are growing and you need shoes that protect you,"
"What if I can’t find any shoes as good as these?" Ethan asks, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.
Ethan stands between his parents, gazing wide-eyed at the endless choices before him. A friendly store clerk kneels down, measuring his feet and offering a smile. "Let’s take our time and find the perfect pair," Dad encourages.
"I like the blue ones with the lightning bolts," Ethan finally says, a small smile breaking through as he points to a shelf.
Ethan gently removes his new shoes from the box, fingers tracing the bright patterns. Mom and Dad watch him, pride and relief in their eyes. "How do they feel?"
"They feel...awesome! Maybe these will be my new lucky shoes," Ethan grins, slipping them onto his feet and bouncing in his seat.
He leaps over puddles and sprints past blooming flowerbeds, the shoes cushioning his every step. Mom and Dad clap and cheer from the porch, their worries replaced by contentment. As the sun sets, Ethan glances down at his new shoes, realizing that sometimes change brings new adventures.
__END__
