Those shoes

It was time to go.  I called to the big kids, who were playing in their room to put on their shoes.

I grabbed a few things and came into the laundry room (that leads to the garage) to find Gemma sitting on the rug in front of the door.  This is a new habit of hers that I find charming, adorable and convenient as well.

I grabbed her shoes off the washer (otherwise she carries them around the house and I find them stuffed in the oddest places.  Also, I CANNOT find them when it is time to leave the house) and bent to put them on her all the while reminding William to grab his backpack, Amelia to put on her school shoes, etc.

I was taken aback when it registered that Gemma was pushing the sensible pair of tennis shoes away from me.  When I looked closer she had a frown on her face and was most certainly pushing the shoes away and kicking her feet so I wasn't able to put on the shoes.  Her tiny pointer finger directed me back to the washer.  I grabbed a less sensible, yet adorable pair of pink shoes that match her outfit next.  I let the big kids out into the garage while I bent to put the shoes on my girl.  Hands waving the shoes away, frown, feet kicking, a squawk of displeasure, and the tiny finger directing me back to the washer.

With a sigh, I pull down the pair of red sandals that do NOT match what she is wearing.  This should not matter to me, but it does.  It matters because I hate people feeling sorry for my neglected (opinionated) child who has to wear mismatched clothes because her mother is too busy to figure it out.  In reality, I know I am probably the only one who notices, but it still makes me crazy.


I get ready to put the red shoes on and notice the great big smile on Gemma's face.  She helpfully lifts one foot and then the other so I can slide the mismatched shoes on her feet (with socks no less!  The horror!).

Yes.  My child is 14 months old and I am already choosing my battles with her.  Can you imagine when she is 14 years old?