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The case of the missing shoelaces

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Petite Clown likes to take her shoelaces out of her shoes every chance she gets! The brown shoelace is from another pair of her shoes that she outgrew and a couple months ago I had to put them in these shoes because I could not find the original ones. Well, you guessed it! She has gone and lost one of the brown shoelaces and all I have left is one white shoelace that goes to another pair of shoes. Wait, I do have one other white shoelace that is flat and goes to some baby tennis shoes she outgrew last year.

That is it! Three shoelaces are all that I can find in the house and car and none of the shoelaces match the other. I will not buy new ones until she stops pulling them out and playing with them.

In the picture above one of her shoes is untied. Lucky for me (this time) she fell asleep while taking them off in the backseat. If we go five minutes in the car that is just enough time for this little clown to untie one shoe, pull out the lace and hide it somewhere. Afterwards, she starts working on the other shoe before the car stops and Mama can catch her.

My mother has informed me that I don’t have the right to complain. My mother has a picture of me when I was about three or four wearing shoes with missing laces. My mother told me that on the way from the house to the photographer I had pulled out my laces like I always did (sounds familiar) and to this day she does not know what I did with them (hmmmm…sounds very familiar). She had to go ahead and get my brother and my picture taken with me having no shoelaces in my shoes. Yes, my shoes are shown in the picture and every single time my mother comes across this picture and I am present, she tells me the whole story, AGAIN.

While growing up, I don’t know how many times I heard my mother say in a frustrated voice, “I hope you have kids just like you!” Welp, Mom, your wish came true. I am sorry for all the things I did as a kid. I was a handful to say the least.

While at a store, I (age three) climbed to the top of rugs that were piled on top of one another so high that my mother couldn’t even touch the top. She told me that I would run from one end to the other giggling each time she tried to get close to me. Finally, beside herself with fear that I would fall or a sales person would come, she begged me to just jump into her arms. Since it sounded like fun, I did. Ohhh, the stories go on and on.

My kids keep me as busy as I kept my mother. I have more stories of their creativity than I care to think about.

For this reason I don’t wish the children of my children to be like them. No, let’s stop this terrible curse now! I hope that their children are perfectly boring and sit and behave. I hope my grandchildren never speak unless spoken to and that they have no personality whatsoever.

Yeah, RIGHT! What I really hope is that they are terrible just like their grandmother!

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