The Barefoot Traveler

I really don’t know why I bother. We left this morning with a shoe of some sort on each of my kids’ feet. On time. With no major incidents. This is rare, I tell you! Lilly had a hot pink bow neatly clipped into her unruly hair, which I swear we also combed. We were not in the car for three minutes, barely pulling out of the subdivision, when she started wriggling in her car seat, fidgeting and fiddling with anything she could get a good grasp on and yank. She started with her hair. That pretty pink bow? History. She looked like Cindy Lou Who with her hair sticking straight up in an unattractive clump on top of her head. Then she moved quickly on to her boots. In record time she stripped them both. I guess she was oblivious to the fact that it was 50 degrees outside, because next she plucked off each of her socks and tossed them on the ground in front of her. One sock caught some air and landed in the front passenger seat. So, forget the fact that we were on time. When we got to our destination, I had to redress my daughter’s feet and try desperately to tame her hair so people wouldn’t think she just rolled out of bed with crazy hair. I really think I’m going to skip socks, shoes, and bows altogether. So if I show up somewhere with a barefoot girl sporting a wild mane, don’t judge me.