I picked up some new Stride Rite sneakers for Lincoln a few weeks ago, which we call "Race car Shoes" because of the little emblem on the side. He loves to wear them, will eagerly fetch them from the shoe basket when it is time to leave the house, and tells everyone who notices their shiny white newness: "RACE CAR SHOES!"
Until yesterday. After a weekend spent mostly barefoot running through the sprinkler or across grassy yards, Lincoln apparently lost his shoe-lust.
When we were getting ready for our morning trip to the playground yesterday, I could only find one shoe. I asked him where the other shoe was, but he wouldn't say...preferring to give me "the look." Those of you who know him well know EXACTLY the look I'm talking about. It is the caught-with-your-hand-in-the-cookie-jar look, the devil-is-in-your-eye look, the I-know-but-I'm-not-talking look."Fine," I answered. "You'll just have to wear your slippers." And he did.
This morning, he and I had a similar exchange as we got ready to leave the house. He still didn't fetch the shoe from its hiding spot. "OK, Linc. Then you have to wear your old sneakers." And I shoved his little feet into the shoes that just barely still fit him, and headed to the store. I picked up a pair of croc-like sandals for him and another cute summer shoe. He seemed pleased.
Fast forward to this afternoon, post-nap. "Time to go to the playground!" I announced from the kitchen where I was packing drinks.
Lincoln rounded the corner, calling "Here is, mommy! Here is!" "Here is what, Linc?"
"Here is...race car shoe!" (holding shoe proudly in the air for me to see)
"Oh! Where was it?"
"Here. In bag." He leads me to the dining room and points to a party bag from Alexandria's party 10 days ago.
"Oh! Thanks for finding it. Now you can wear them to the park."
"Yes, mommy. Race car shoes!"
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