... shoes without the genii costume ... |
Easier for me when I was raising kids, for the Johnsons didn't have to get into a car. We lived right across the street from the church. Well, across the street and around one corner.
Here, there is breakfast everywhere (in the kitchen, in the dining room), Xavier getting ready for work, and Rhiannon putting the last touches on her birthday card. She is trying to eat and do the birthday card and wake up -- all at the same time.
For her eating is hard work. The waffle is toasted and there is a nice warm peanut-butter / honey dip beside her, melted and in a 1/8th cup decorative bowl, which I think will help her appetite, but probably which is not true.
This morning she tried out Naomi's shoes. I heard Leo saying to her, "Not a good idea." I thought the same thing to myself when I heard how wobbly each step sounded. In fact when I heard the footsteps I thought, this is what makes an orthopaedic practise lucrative.
Naomi is wearing the shoes to church. I told her this is why Mormon's don't let women pass the sacrament. "Don't reinforce gender roles," her mother said to me.
"No. This is not about that. I maintain those shoes would be too distracting."
I am busy since it is time to put in cinnamon buns. Mary is making everyone's exit a little smoother.
Leo has tried to warm up the car. It doesn't start, so it has to be pushed out a bit so that some jumper cables can come to the rescue.
A good thing church is still 3 hours. The family is going to get there before church lets out.
Arta
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