If you look at it a certain way, it was my son’s fault.

Oliver's Shoes, Birth to Age 7 (Photo credit: reinvented)

I was giving my younger sister a hard time in the parking lot after church one day. She walked by as I was about to turn on the car when I noticed the baby in her arms wasn’t wearing any shoes. I decided to razz her about it, as is my birth right as the other brother.

“It’s cold out here. Why don’t you have any shoes on that kid?”

“Why does she need shoes? She can’t walk. She’s got socks on. She’s fine,” my sister replied.

“We always put shoes on our kids even before they could walk. WE wanted to keep them warm and safe from illness,” I told her in a superior tone. “Don’t make me remind you that I’ve been a parent nearly twice as long as you. I have far more experience in this area. You should really listen to me.”

“Yeah, whatever,” was the best she could do to compete with me. I turned the key with a smirk on my face as she began to walk away. A second later I turned the car off again and got out.

My sister turned and asked, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. It’s just that …uhh… I’m missing Michael. I thought he was in the car already.” THEN Michael showed up and hopped inside.

“Mmm. Hmm,” said my sister with a satisfied toss of her head.

I guess I deserved that.

-Luke, father of 2