Ethan, an 8-year-old boy with tousled brown hair and a curious spirit, sat at the table, swinging his feet. His eyes were focused on the frayed edges of his sneakers, now barely holding together. "Mom, my shoes are really falling apart," he said with a hint of concern.

Mrs. Carter, Kyle's mother, paused from flipping a pancake. Her face was gentle and kind, but her eyes carried the weight of unspoken worries. "I know, sweetheart. We’ll get you new ones soon, I promise. Just a few more weeks. You'll have to wear your sandals until then," she assured him, pouring syrup over his breakfast.

Ethan walked cautiously, his sandals slapping against the pavement. He tried to ignore the curious glances from his classmates. Tommy, his best friend, ran up to him, his face flushed from playing. "Hey, Ethan! Want to join the game?" he asked with enthusiasm.

"I’ll have to sit this one out. My sandals aren't great for running," Ethan admitted, a hint of disappointment in his voice. Tommy shrugged, offering a reassuring grin. "That's okay. We can just hang out here and watch," he said, tossing a small pebble into the grass.

Ethan walked home, his mind racing with ideas and his feet starting to hurt from wearing sandals all day. "Why did my shoes have to fall apart during the school year? It would have been better if they had fallen apart during the summer," he thought.

Mr. Carter, Ethan's father, entered the room, his hands slightly stained with oil from his job at the garage. He ruffled Ethan's hair affectionately. "How was school, champ?" he asked. Ethan beamed up at him, his eyes bright with hope. "It was good, Dad. I learned a lot, but my feet are starting to hurt from wearing my sandals all day." he replied, his voice filled with newfound confidence.