Tigger Shoes

This morning, I rushed back from the gym (but not TOO fast, after my $85 speeding ticket two weeks ago, damn those PV pigs) to take the little angel to Oz. My beloved had dressed her in an orange-and-yellow striped outfit (not as unfortunate-looking as one might think on a red-headed baby). I thought the outfit could be accessorized with these funny-looking Tigger booties I'd found in the four tubs of hand-me-downs bestowed on us by my beloved's seven brothers and sisters. Lo and behold, they were ADORABLE.

Not two seconds after I had them on her, the little angel noticed them (how could you not? I mean, really - these are a five-month-old's version of Jimmy Choo) and began laughing, waving her arms and flailing about the crib. Then she'd look down, see they were STILL THERE, and do the whole routine again. Most of this flailing would then result in her kicking off the booties and being sad. We went through this routine in the crib and in the car, getting out of the car and at Oz, until finally I put her down in the coolest Exersaucer they have and went to leave, booties in hand. She didn't notice. I figure it is probably the first in a long string of bait-and-switches I will pull on her. Darn, though, they are cute.