Near our back door, we have a rather large basket full of shoes. Lots and lots of shoes. All of which belong to the two kids. Yesterday, I told my son to go get a pair out of the basket and put them on for school. I was folding laundry in the other room, and kept yelling, “Did you put your shoes on?” He would reply, “Not yet!” And, I would say, “Well, hurry up! It’s time for school.” We did this over and over before I finally went to check on him.

I found him in the back hallway, completely surrounded by shoes. He had dumped the entire basket onto the floor. But, that wasn’t what surprised me. He often dumps all of his trains, cars, and books all over the house, so why would shoes be any different?

I stood there silently and watched him hold a shoe up to his face and smell it, then put it down, pick up another shoe and do the same thing. After he did this a few times, I asked, “What are you doing? Why haven’t you put your shoes on yet?”

He looked up at me with a disgusted look and said, “These shoes all smell like Michigan.”

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