A Word About Shoes

Dear John,

You have always been into shoes.  For the longest time, you would not go barefoot... ever.  I have had to keep you in footed jammies so that your feet would be covered at night.  You have even gone so far as asking for shoes in the bath in the past.

As with most things, the shoe obsession seemed to be tapering with age... until recently.

For some reason, we seem to be right back where we were.  Last night you were crying in your room.  "Shoes!"  "Shoes!"  "Need shoes!"  (Only it sounds more like "shoose" as in rhymes with "loose".)

I went in and you were trying to find shoes for your baby doll.  It was too traumatic for you that baby was having to sleep without shoes on.  Then, in searching for baby's shoes, you realized that I had snuck you into footless jammies!  (Nevermind that you have worn these many times before without incident.)

You do have house shoes.  I showed them to you.  Both pairs.  Nope.  Not those shoes.  You wanted tennis shoes.  Specifically, your Dr. Seuss tennis shoes.  Or as you call them, your "cat hat fish shoose."

 And just for the record, we found shoes for baby, too.

Crisis averted.

Love,
Mom