It was the first snow of winter -- an exciting day for every child but not for most teachers. Up until now, I had been old enough to dress myself, but today would need some help. Miss Finlayson, my kindergarten teacher, had been through brst snow days many times, but I think she may still remember this one. I managed to get into my wool snow trousers. But I struggled won my jacket because it didn't fit well. It was a hand-mc-down from my brother, and if made me wonder why I had to wear his ugly clothes, At least my hat and scarf were mine, and they were quite pretty. Finally it was time to have Miss Finlayson help me with my boots . In her calm, motherly voice she said, "By the end of winter, you will all be able to put on your own boots." I didn't realize at the at the time that this was more a statement of hope than of confidence . I handed her my boots and stuck out my foot. Like most children, I expected grown-ups to do all the work. After much pushing, she managed to get first one into place and then, with a sigh, worked the second one on too. I announced, "They're on the wrong feet." She struggled to get the boots off and went through the joyless task of putting them on again. "They're my brother's boots, you know," I said. "I hate them". Somehow,  from long years of practice,  she managed to act as though I wasn't an annoying  little girl,  She struggle with me, she asked, "Now, where are your mittens ?" I looked into her eyes and said, "I didn't want to lose them, so I hid them in the toes of my boots. Miss Finlayson had difficulty with the girl's boots mainly because  _  .
the girl got them from her brother the girl put something in them they were on the wrong feet they did not fit the girl well