This weekend, the Shoups had a rare dinner out. I don't mean fast food (cuz heaven knows that's not rare), but an actual sit down dinner. Brent usually asks me about dress code before we went out to dinner, but I guess he felt pretty comfortable with the Cracker Barrel dress code. Just before we left, it was discovered that he was wearing his ratty lawn mowing shoes and he proceeded to change them.
As KIC and I sat in the car watching him change his shoes on the front step (after having walked out in his socks...BOYS!), I threw my arms open to playfully indicate that he needed to shake a leg (Momma was fiending for some double chocolate coca cola cake...haven't had it...don't! It's addictive!!). The following is a true accounting of all that transpired.
KIC (arms also outstretched with all the windows rolled up): BRENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
(I start giggling and Brent doesn't understand why, so I roll down the window)
KIC: DADDY!!!! PUT YOUR OTHER SHOE ON! HURRY UP!
Me (whispering): KIC, tell daddy if he doesn't hurry up, we're leaving him here.
KIC: DADDY!!! We can't waste time, we have to go to get dinner!
(Daddy finally finishes and gets into the car)
KIC: Daddy! You had to change your shoes and now we're going to be late for dinner. We almost left you!
I've decided that from this point on, there's no point in me trying to corral DH when it's time to go out. I'll just send my mini-me into action!
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