Remember that game called Memory that you played when you were a kid? You flipped over two cards and tried to match them. Did you ever wonder how this applied to real life? Today I figured it out.
It's starting to feel like autumn. And this means that in order to avoid the scornful looks from the elderly strangers in coffee shops, I need to put appropriate footwear on my baby. Amelia has about sixteen pairs of shoes. Only half of these are not boots. And half of the shoes won't stay on her feet past the front door. Of these, I could not find a single matching pair of shoes this morning as I was leaving the house.
Part of the problem, I suspect, is the exersaucer. It's like a black-hole for footwear. It will suck off the shoes, no matter how well they fit, and then it will slowly peal off the child's socks too. And whoever looks under the exersaucer to retrieve socks and shoes? Who has that kind of time?
So I want to put on the cute pink sandal-y Robeez, but I can't find both of them at the same time. I know I've seen them in the baby's room. I find one on the stool of the rocking chair. I also know I've seen them in the kitchen by the exersaucer. Or was that the same one that is now in the baby's room? Maybe I thought to myself, "Shoes don't go in the kitchen. I'll just put this somewhere SAFE," and then brought it upstairs. And I know I saw shoes in the living room because when Amelia was fussing while I was on the phone, I handed one to her to chew on so she'd be quiet. But was that the same pair? And there are pink shoes in the front hallway, but they're not there now. I know at one moment, Cole got angry and threw a pink shoe down the stairs in protest of something.
The poor kid ended up having to wear hand-me-down penny loafers and they SO didn't match her pink dress.