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Daddy’s Shoes

September 8, 2010

When I come home from work I have a bad habit of leaving piles around the house.  One pile which consists of my keys, wallet and phone usually ends up around, or on the microwave. The second consists of my shoes, socks and belt and ends up near the kitchen table.  My piles drive Becks crazy, and she goes behind me asking why I can’t put anything up.  

Tonight while I was looking for my keys, which Becks had put in a place that made sense to her, I watched Mason play around with the items on the kitchen table. He took the belt and threw it on the floor. He then picked up each of my socks and threw them in the general direction of our bedroom (Becks would be impressed since he’s better at that than I am). He then turned his attention to my shoes. He put one foot in each and then beamed a huge smile at me and laughed.

I remember doing the same thing with my dad’s work shoes that I would sometime find in the kitchen. I remember them being big, black and very shiny.  I sat there watching him as he picked up his feet and attempted to shuffle around the kitchen in my shoes. He was too little to get very far, but gave it a good try. Me being the sap that I am immediately thought of him following in my footsteps.  Raising a little boy into a man is a huge responsibility, and I pray that I  do my best to set him on a good path.

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