The Little Black Shoe

There once was a little black shoe that almost got the best of me. You see, a few weeks ago, my dear friends invited me to the court finalization of their long awaited adoption. Even though it began at THE crack of dawn and I would have to drag my 3 little kids, and I knew it would be a disaster of a morning—there was no way I would miss it. That's why, being so extremely organized as I always am (stop laughing), in preparation, laid out the kids' clothes the night before. Every item.

Every item, that is, EXCEPT for one black shoe. My daughter's shiny black shoes were the ONLY shoes that would fit the special outfit I had chosen for her. It was, after all, a darling sweater dress with black and gold flowers and a black shrug on top. Nothing less than darling would do for this special day. So when one black shoe decided to go missing, I spent a good 73 minutes looking for it. I looked everywhere, determined that the delinquent shoe would not come off conqueror.

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