Swearing on boots

After driving to and from Chicago with family last week, I left a pair of super cute boots in my mom's car. I won't get them back for another week, and my mom has already worn them once. To insure that she treats my boots right, I'm going to make her repeat this:

I, Mama Anne, do solemnly swear to respect, love and cherish these cute boots until I give them back to my awesome daughter, Liv. Because I have to give them back. I cannot keep them. I promise to return them.

While they are in my possession, I promise to never wear them in snow (and if snow should unexpectedly fall, I promise to wrap plastic bags around my feet) and keep them away from any sort of mud/paint/snot/dirty fingers/coffee/raspberries/little children/playgrounds/cats/monkeys/grease/hairspray/etc.

I will wear them proudly and stylishly, and pretend I'm on the cover of Vogue and strike a pose whenever someone looks at them. They'll think I'm uber-cool.