This morning during the whole 'Ahh! Must leave for work NOW!' madness, Bear was hollering for his shoes and I, half-paying-attention and on my way to the bedroom from a swooping run for the dryer and the sock bucket, was pointing out 'There, there, do you see them THERE' and was stopped by B's puzzled "Those aren't mine."
"What? Of course they're yours. I wore them yesterday when I was tromping around."
(I have big feet.)
Bear grabbed out another pair. "No, mine are here. See? Different colour."
"Well then whose are....." there was a pause before our eyes met in horrified realization.
Yesterday, I wore my son's shoes. All day. Comfortably.
Cass is TEN, and apparently going to be tall like his grandfather.
I am in so much trouble. I also need bigger bricks.