It doesn’t matter if they put their shoes in the designated basket beside the front door as soon as they walk in. It doesn’t matter if just three seconds ago there was a left shoe and a right shoe. It doesn’t matter if they were wearing their shoes thirty seconds ago.
When we are ready to leave the house, we will always be searching for shoes. Always. I know it’s an absolute, and I’ve said it twice even, but this is what eight years of parenting have taught me: You will always be looking for shoes. And they hide well. They hide impossibly well.
We don’t have high standards. We just want them to wear shoes. We don’t care if one shoe is green and another is black. We don’t care if one is a flip flop and the other is a tennis shoe. We don’t care.
But the thing about mismatched shoes is there has to be a left one and there has to be a right one.
We tried to leave the house today, because we don’t have any food in our refrigerator and I thought a trip to the store would probably be a good idea (even though it’s not, because kids). I tried my best for thirty whole minutes. I only have three kids here right now, because grandparents are watching the other three. It should have been (comparatively) easy.
Except this is all I could find. Mismatched shoes, and they were all the same foot. I can’t work with this.
And since I’m looking for every excuse not to haul 3-year-old twins and a five-month-old to the grocery store, we just stayed home.
Oh, well. Who needs food?
