Shoehorned

This evening, Jack had his 15-month doctor appointment. It was after dinner and because it was raining, and my hair tends to curl like a mountain switchback at the slightest whiff of moisture three states away, I didn't feel like walking the five blocks over there.

Well that, and I didn't want Jack to get wet either. I am attentive like that.

So I decided to drive over and quickly got Jack out of his bath and re-dressed. I grabbed his sandals and put them on and away we went.

When we arrived at the doctor's office, I had to fill out new insurance info. Of course, the master squirmer was having none of that and insisted on being allowed to try to run out the office door into the parking lot.

I could see his little feet moving a mile a minute and thought, "Huh. That's weird. His toe is hanging over the edge of that sandal. We just got him new ones this weekend. How can that be?"

Then I look and announce out loud to the receptionist, "Bad mom alert -- I put my son's old, too-small sandals on him as we left the house."

"Correction, I put ONE wrong sandal on him. Ha ha, isn't that a riot? He's wearing two different shoes. Don't they look similar?"

"Umm, yeah, and he's also wearing the one old sandal on the wrong foot. I swear to you, I wasn't drinking before I brought him here."

(For those playing along at home, my little skinny-minny man is now weighing in at a whopping 24 lbs (50th percentile) and over 32 inches (90th percentile)! Holy gigantic baby batman! I guess all the fat in his diet and the whole milk is doing his body good.