He couldn't find her sandals - because they were still in my car. So he dressed her the only way he could, in her dress shoes. He added a pair of socks because they're just not for direct entry. And then I picked the girls up from daycare at the end of the day today and drove them home, and L kicked off her shoes again, as well as her socks.
We got home and she called for her daddy to get her out of the car, as she always does when we get home to find his car already in the garage. "She's barefoot," I warned him, so he tried to carry her into the house instead of setting her down to walk.
She did doth protest and so he carried her in a different direction instead, toward the end of the driveway. His intention was to hand her the mail to carry inside, a prize chore in her eyes, while he retrieved the garbage can and wheeled it back into the garage. Instead, L insisted on taking the reins. Barefoot, she pulled the handle of the garbage can until the can was almost parallel to the ground and began carefully steering it into its berth. I had just delivered the bigger girl inside when the lovely husband yelled, "hey! Get the camera!"
And so I rushed, tripping over the edge of the recycling bin with such momentum that I fell into it entirely. But holding my beloved Nikon aloft, I was able to recover in time to get the picture. Paparazzi have it hard, y'all.
In entirely less embarrassing news, my second Nursery Rhyme Expounded was published over at Simple Kids today. Did you actually believe a cow could jump over the moon? Go over there and indulge, would you, and think of me not as a bruised and sore milk-gallon-dregs-splattered klutz but instead as a creative genius. I appreciate the visual substitution.
And now I have to go place two internet orders: one for new toddler shoes and one for a new recycling bin.