“Jonatan”, Emma called happily. “Look, Mummy bought me somes new shoes! Hee!”
“Oh,” Jonathan murmured appreciatively. “They’re nice.”
“Yet!”, Emma readily agreed. “Dey are, Dey are my NEW shoes. Dey are my Amit Shoes!”
Amit is the Indian gentleman that owns and runs the gas station next door. Typically when Emma walks there with me she picks a flower or two for Amit, who graciously receives these mutilated blooms. He has three daughters of his own and realizes the importance of these offerings. Sometimes Amit returns the favour by offering Emma a free candy of her choice from a colourful selection of Laffy Taffy.
Jonathan studied her shoes closely and then seriously stated. “Oh, really – but I don’t see Amit on your shoes.”
Not content with this response Emma pointed enthusiastically to the pink strap across the front of the new sandle that adorned her left foot.
“Hee – it tays Amit shoes right here!”
“Oh, really?”, queried Jonathan. “Well – I don't see where they say Amit’s on them, but I think they are very pretty shoes.
Emma stared at him for a moment looking very disatisfied, before she tried again.
“Yet dey do! Wite here. Hee!” Again she pointed to the same pink strap. “Dey say; Very pwetty Amit shoes!”
And, of course, this was followed by the inevitable question. “Tan you take me to Amit’s in my Amit shoes?”
