Before I became a parent, I was blissfully unaware of the meaning words such as “Jibbitz.” After I had kids, and Bobo started dressing herself, Crocs (and Jibbitz, which are incidentally the little decorative buttons that go in the holes of Crocs) became a familiar term in my parenting lexicon.
On one of J’s recent business trips, he brought back a pair of “Where the Wild Things Are” Jibbitz for Bobo’s new Crocs. Bobo was delighted by her new trinkets, and I had her grab her shoes from the front door so I could pop them in.
Easier said than done. My 10 minute struggle to get Max to go into the hole did not make me a fan of the Jibbitz. Maybe it is just me, but I think Mr. Jibbitz and Mr. Croc clearly need to work on their communication skills. Either make the button smaller, or the hole bigger, people!
Ironically, once both of the Wild Things were securely in place, Bobo examined my handiwork, and decided she wanted Max to go on the left foot instead. I had to laugh. “Tough beans, kiddo,” I said. “Max is staying in that Croc for all of eternity.”
Let the wild rumpus begin!