If you have children like mine, however, then there have been several different right shoes lined up near or in front of the front door for the better part of a day. I don't know why they pick the right shoe, and I don't know why they line them up right in front of the door. If they are thinking St. Nick is coming in that door, why are they setting up the shoes like a booby trap for him?
I don't question their methods. It leads to my madness.
Baby has no shoes to put out, although Sally offered to put out an extra one of hers, but even without a shoe, she'll be getting a canister of rice cereal from St. Nicholas. It's the best thing his helper could come up with during a late night run to the grocery store.
Besides, all she really wanted for Christmas was her two front teeth, as evidenced by her ferocious teething and drooling. And although it is very hard to tell in the picture, if you look very closely and squint and use your imagination, you can see the glimmer of the razor sharp baby teeth that broke through this weekend.
No one better even hint that Santa doesn't deliver, because he so does. As well as St. Nick, St. Nicholas, and St. Nickel (?!?). All of which Sally has called him in this evening. She says St. Nickel is her own nickname for him.
Apparently, they are tight, which is why she put a boot put tonight instead of just a shoe. She sure has friends in high places, that Sally-girl.