It’s not often that I pat myself on the back for having made an unquestionably smart parenting decision. If anything, I’m usually wallowing in a murky swirl of What Ifs — besieged by doubt, flinching in the face of motherhood’s crushingly wonderful burden, second-guessing my capabilities.
But today, my friends, I took my son to the orthopedics center to have his cast removed. AND I TOTALLY REMEMBERED TO BRING A SECOND SHOE.
Well, duh, you might be thinking. What, you were going to make him limp back out to the car with one naked, shamefully grungy little exposed foot? Uh, yeah, chances were pretty fucking good. I can’t BELIEVE I remembered the shoe. PRO MOVE RIGHT HERE. JUST LOOK AT THAT FULLY CLOTHED CHILD.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bask in this unfamiliar glow of parental proficiency for as long as it lasts, which ought to be a good five minutes or so.