My son stepped out on the front porch this morning.
He was, thankfully, fully dressed (not just hanging out in his pajamas or, what’s worse, a t-shirt and diaper).
He even had on his winter coat and his wooly tiger hat.
But he was still wearing his Batman socks. No shoes. Just socks.
Who has time for shoes, anyway? His sisters had just completed the morning dash: shoes, coats, hats and gloves, backpacks, lunch bags.
He tried to sneak outside with them at first. He wove himself into the line and stared determinedly straight ahead, hoping to avoid my gaze and maybe escape my notice while he slipped out the door.
Of course, I scooped him up out of the line and told him to say goodbye to the girls.
He cried instead, grabbing at their coats to either make them stay or allow him to go.
Finally, we stood at…
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