Yes my shoe saga continues. A few weeks ago my one year old threw all my shoes in a bush. Well not all of them, but the majority. And the strategic majority too let me tell you, because I wasn't left with a single matching pair. And I was forced to go to the grocery store in my fru-fru neighborhood in mismatched shoes.
Oh the shock, oh the horror... whatever.
Just to clarify, that's not me in the photo. Just in case you were wondering how I managed to get my shit together, lose some weight and look somewhat civilized. No, pigs aren't flying just yet.
So anyway, where I'm actually going with this story is to tell you that I spent significant time last week with my head in a bush. And it wasn't a pretty bush either. Oh no, my son is way too strategic for that. It was one of those bush clumps that is actually more like 5 different bushes all growing into one (yes, my gardening is even worse than my cooking). And there were roses and aloes and yukka and some other spiky thing that I don't know the name of. But if I was to give it a name it would be the worse kind of curse word. Nuff said.
And I only found 3 shoes. So I gave up looking and kicked the bush and spiked my foot and used the worst kind of curse word again. And then my son said the curse word too and gave a shoe to the dog. But it's okay though, because thanks to my foot injury, I now have a medical reason for wearing only one shoe. I don't know why I didn't think of it earlier... if you wrap a bandage around one foot, you'll never need 2 shoes ever again. It's pure genius!
And this morning I realized that I'd come to terms with my shoe loss. They're only shoes after all, and they can be replaced. And then perfectly on cue (karma, gotta love it) a few minutes later my son came trundling past me with another 4 missing shoes in his hand. So after all that bush scratching (man, that sounds bad) it turns out he'd stashed the rest of the shoes in his top secret indoor hiding place. Which is so top secret I have no clue where it is. And just so you don't think I'm completely useless, our basset hound doesn't either. And that's really saying something because she loves shoes more than Elton John and Boy George combined.
I know most parents think their kids will be doctors or lawyers. But I think mine is going to be a secret agent. Because he is a strategist of Dr Spock proportions, and he knows how to stash stuff away. And he likes to mess with people's heads. Especially mine. Okay, I just reread this and realized that he'd also make a damn fine drug dealer. I'm a bit freaked out by this thought. And his use of the curse word doesn't help his case either. But so far he's only used it once, so I think there's still hope for his rehabilitation.
I'd play him the James Bond movies as inspiration but they're terribly sexist. If the moms in my neighborhood get freaked out by mismatched shoes, can you imagine what they'd do if my son started referring to them as Honey Rider or Pussy Galore? So no, not a good idea. But I am going to make sure that the medicines are locked up on the top shelf, just in case. And I'm also going to smile sweetly whenever I see him... the little bugger still has all my shoes.
Comments