Sunday, March 21, 2010

The Takeoff Roll

So I'm up solo this morning getting mah boys ready for Sunday school cause The Missus was up all night with the babe. We had a pleasant piece of toast together, combed some unruly mops and then just in time we grabbed coats and shoes to head out the door.

Coats and...

Yeah, there in lies the rub.

My Missus has done a spectacular job making sure the Short People have the appropriate footwear for any occasion. They've each got:
  • Flip flops
  • Crocs (mmmmyeah)
  • Water shoes
  • Sneakers
  • Sturdy shoes
  • Work boots
  • Puddle boots
  • Snow boots
as well as some of them having ballet slippers, fuzzy slippers, Buzz Lightyear boots and a few other assorted items.

I've even gone so far as to build each of them a locker by the door, one pair of which has a large bin underneath for shoes. It's four feet wide, two feet deep and a foot high. Shoes generally spill out of it and sometimes completely impede the five foot archway that leads into the living room.

This morning, like many others I found myself scaling Mount Footware in a desperate search for a second shoe of pretty much any kind to put on little H-Bomb. He's the worst of em. Last year he lost so many shoes that The Missus bought him a one dollar pair of flip flops and that was all he was allowed to have. (He still has them, one of them at least as of this morning.)

Well dog my cats if I could find even a close match for that guy. There he stands, pants on, hair combed, jacket zipped, rejoicing at each new find only to have to wait a little longer to see if I can find the other one. He finally went out the door in one olive green imitation croc of his own and one blue one belonging to his older brother. His was a right and the other was a left and they were, of course, on the wrong foot.

Somewhere along the line he has come to a deep and profound understanding of left vs. right that is at odds with what we've taught the rest of the children and will not deviate from it for love or money. He is firmly convinced that his left foot is his right and vice versa, the kicker is that he also knows which shoe is the left and right (a correct understanding). So every time he grabs a pair, he carefully reverses them to make sure they're on the "correct" foot.

So finally, with two minutes to spare, I zipped the wee bairn into his fuzzy traveling togs and out the door we went with my blood pressure sky high and my pulse zinging in my ears. I don't know why this is such a big deal for me today but for some reason it is. At some point today there is going to be a grand reckoning of the footware. I'm going to cull the herd as it were and bring them safely home to roost in the comfy confines of the shoe bin.

So help me.



Middle Aged Woman said...

I can't even imagine the logistics involved in getting four little ones out the door at an appointed time.

Irish Gumbo said...

You got out the door? Wow. Power, brother!