It's the Shoes: A Post Not Really About Shoes

I won't post explicitly about the gargantuan collection of fantastically cute shoes that Katie has stashed away for the boys. That would be validation and validation would be taken as implicit approval to spend even more on cute shoes. Let's just say that when Katie implores the boys to eat, it's not really about health or protein or fiber, it's about growing bigger, sooner, to fit into the next size up of shoes that wait, oh so patiently (and cutely) in the closet.

Really, what this post is about, is Miles: Super Baby. Hey, how many times have we seen the kid with the ice cream cone go to lick the scoop on the cone and they lick the scoop right off the cone. There they stand: empty cone in hand, scoop on ground, time machine being built in kid's head to get scoop back on cone? How many times?

You'd think 22 month-old Miles -- Miles "Hey-I'm-not-going-to-walk-'til-I'm-18-months-old-I'll-just-scoot-ok-thanks" Miles -- that Miles, would be a prime candidate for the aforementioned cone/scoop tragedy. So, tonight, at Pumphouse Creamery (We love you, Pumphouse!), not only did Miles NOT need his time machine (he uses that for hunting dinosaurs), he grunted and stretched and contorted his way up onto a bench, holding his cone the whole time and, people! It did not spill. In fact, after twisting and contorting into a sitting position, he nonchalantly lifted the perfect cone to his mouth like it had been in some magic pocket the whole time. . . . or a time machine.