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As we drove to church, I wondered to myself which shoes Ella had chosen to wear. Her brown mary janes would have been my choice, but she made it to the car before I could advise her. When we arrived, my question was answered. She climbed out of the car and stood there on the sidewalk before me wearing a darling purple, ruffled dress and . . . rain boots. Giraffe rain boots. I sighed. I decided it didn't really matter. And just as well. I only had time to say the same thing I say every Sunday morning when we arrive at church: "Hurry, girls! We're gonna be late."