Tuesday, May 5, 2009


Or, in standard English, shoes.
Doesn't matter, lil' dude. You are smitten.
This should not surprise me. Your father built the downstairs floor plan to include shoe closet- for his shoes! Don't worry, I have a few pairs there too. And about 78 other pairs tucked around our home here and there.

We are a shoe family.

Last night after your bath, you kept asking for your shuss. Pleading with me. So I did what any sane mother would do and relented. I gave you this pair of flip-flops to satisfy your appetite- as I have hidden all your other pairs away from you, and stowed them on a high, high shelf. Evil, I know. But if there are shoes in plain sight, it's all you want to do. Last night, by the way? I caught you licking Daddy's disgusting garage shoes. Licking his shoes! You are a maniac.

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