So the brat performs tomorrow

.. for Republic Day. And I did my little pushy parenting bit (apologies to Amy Chua) by calling up school and demanding that they audition him for the performance knowing that he would never raise his hand when asked who wanted to perform, he being the retiring, wallflower kind of person, or to be more specific, the one busy getting into fisticuffs at the back of the class when important questions were being raised. Therefore, he was taken for the audition. And selected, and ergo he will perform at the Republic Day function being held at school. My maternal heart overfloweth with pride.
He's been kept behind at school for the past few days for rehearsals, something I am enjoying as a working woman because it gives me one entire day at work. I go pick him up at five, by which time he is about as squeezed out of energy as a lemon post juice making. He troops down with the rest of the kids who have been selected to be part of the performance.
Moves sulkily towards me and raises his foot up. His shuffling gait as he traipsed down, which I had attributed to tiredness was due to him wearing a pair of shoes which were two sizes bigger than his foot. I just needed to stick him into a badly sized black suit, a black bowler and paste on a mouche and I would have had my own wee Chaplin.
"Someone wore my shuz!" he hissed.
He hisses when he is truly angry. "An I don know whu wore it. Everyone is gone now."
I choked back some laughter as he struggled to move a few paces without his foot coming out of said oversaized shoe.
"Dont worry brat, I will get this sorted out tomorrow."
"NO!" he hissed in capitals. "Go buy a new pair for me right now. I canna walk in this shoes."
I raised my eyebrows and insisted he divest himself of them, and walk in his socks to the car if they were so uncomfortable. There was barely ten steps of walking to be done.
"How can I walk in my socks? Everyone will laffatme! Dey will say he has no shoes. Den no one will be my fren."
I was, to put it mildly shocked. "Why would you think that no one will be your friend if you aren't wearing your shoes for two minutes, brat?"
Isnt there more to you than shoes, I asked. "No, I don wantu walk in socks. Everyone will laffatme. You only walk in socks in the temple. You cannot walk in socks in school."
Anyway, we managed to make it to the car by extreme slow and measured movement which was, incidentally much reminscent of the Chaplinesque shuffling to ensure the foot stayed in the oversized shoe. We sat in, and I asked him what he was performing to. "Is a ShahRukhKhan song."
I persisted. "Which song is it? Sing it to me."
"Bud I don habtu sing it. I have to dance it."